Toxic
by riley-poole27
Summary: AU. During his senior year, Stiles meets twenty-two year old Jason Brightley, at one of Lydia's house parties, and quickly falls for him. The relationship is incredibly toxic, leaving his friends worried about him. Including Derek, the bartender at the bar Stiles and Jason frequent. TW for abuse. Stiles/Jason, eventual Sterek.
1. The party

Stiles drove up to the curb, and parked his jeep halfway down the block. He was about to walk into one of the biggest parties of the year, hosted by his close friend Lydia Martin. It was the beginning of May, and the students were restless from the warming weather, and the excitement of graduating in three weeks. He needed a break from his excessive amount of studying. Spending Friday night drinking and dancing with his friends sounded like the perfect evening.

As soon as Stiles walked into the crowded house party, a cold beer was pushed into his hand. He took a sip, enjoying the taste. Stiles didn't recognize the guy who had handed him the beer. _He's kind of cute_, Stiles thought, as he walked over to his group of friends. Stiles pointed out the guy to Scott.

"Who is that?" Stiles asked loudly, trying to be heard over the music. Scott McCall had been his best friend since they were four years old. They'd been like brothers ever since.

"I don't know," Scott said, shrugging. "I've never seen him before."

He hung out with Scott and Kira for awhile, downing a few beers. Stiles left the party, and sat on the porch, drink in hand. The clouds had dissipated, and he could finally see the stars. He heard someone walk up behind him, and he turned to see who it was. Stiles was surprised to see it was the same guy who had given him the drink a few hours earlier. He was carrying two coolers, and he passed one to Stiles as he sat down.

"Hey," He said. "I'm Jason Brightley."

"Oh, hey," Stiles said, smiling. "Thanks for that beer earlier."

"No problem." Jason said. "I noticed you leave the party. Not enjoying yourself?"

Stiles shook his head. "I am. It's just really hot in there. I needed to get some fresh air."

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Stiles." He replied, taking in Jason's thick, curly black hair and grey eyes. He was taller than Stiles by a few inches. He looked older than Stiles, and he wondered how old Jason was.

"You don't go to Beacon Hills High School, do you?" Stiles said. "I know most everyone there. I've never seen you before."

Jason shook his head. "Actually, I'm from Harrison. That's about twenty miles away."

Stiles took another sip of his beer. "Why are you here?" He asked, interested. "This party is only for Beacon Hills seniors."

Jason shrugged. "Brandon Winters invited me."

Stiles knew Brandon Winters. He was on the lacrosse team, a good kid, if a bit shy at times. Stiles' phone bleeped, signaling an incoming text message. He unlocked it, and glanced at the screen.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

_A bit old, but he's definitely my type_, Stiles thought. _Four years isn't too bad._

"Anything important?" Jason asked, watching him.

Stiles shook his head, and placed the phone down on the steps beside him. Stiles was surprised when Brandon picked up his cell phone, and started to go through his contacts. "What are you doing?" He asked, taken aback.

"Relax, Stiles. I'm just giving you my digits." Jason told him, passing back the phone. "I was hoping you'd call me this weekend. I'd love to hang out with you. How about a movie. Monday night sound good?"

Stiles nodded. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

Jason leaned over, and gently kissed Stiles. The taste of Jason's sugary vodka cooler lingered on Stiles' lips after Jason pulled away.

"I'll be looking forward to our date all weekend," He said, smiling as he patted Stiles' knee. Stiles felt a flutter in his stomach, as he grinned up at Jason, watching him rejoin the party.

Jason and Stiles texted back and forth throughout the weekend, to the point where Stiles eventually had to turn off his phone so he could focus on his homework. By Sunday afternoon, Stiles still had three pages of a history essay to write. When he turned his phone back on that night, Stiles was surprised to see that he'd had three missed calls from Jason's number. He called him, and Jason picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, why was your phone off? I was trying to get ahold of you!" Jason asked, annoyed. "You need to keep your phone on."

"I was trying to finish my essay. It's due first period tomorrow." Stiles explained, as he lay down on his bed.

"I'm driving into Beacon Hills tomorrow, I can pick you up at your house in the afternoon."

"That sounds good," Stiles told him, excited. He gave Jason his address.

"I can't wait to see you, babe." Jason told him.

"Uhh . . . me too," Stiles said, surprised by the affectionate nickname. He hung up the phone, and went downstairs to eat dinner with his dad.

Jason arrived at the Stilinski residence at nearly five thirty Monday evening. He pulled up in his black Honda accord, than honked the horn twice, and waited as Stiles ran out to the vehicle. Stiles slid into the passenger seat, and reached for his seatbelt.

"My dad wanted to meet you," He said, glancing back at his house. "I told him you'd come up to the door."

"Maybe next time," Jason said, looking at the digital clock. "The movie starts in half an hour."

They went to the movie theatre, and Jason offered to pay for their tickets and concession.

"What movie do you want to see?" Stiles asked, staring at the bank of movie posters. He was torn between the new zombie film, and a scifi.

"Anything you want," Jason told him, reaching for Stiles' hand. "I'll let you do the honours."

Stiles finally settled on the Scifi, and they waited in line to buy their tickets and drinks. Jason ordered a large popcorn, and two medium cokes. He handed Stiles his drink, and they went into the theatre.

"That was good, but the ending kind of sucked." Jason laughed, as they walked back to his car.

"I thought it was alright," Stiles said, defensively. "They tied up all the loose ends, and they explained it all pretty well."

"If you say so," Jason told him, sarcastically. He pulled up in front of Stiles' house, leaned over and kissed Stiles.

"I had an awesome night," Jason told him. "I love you, babe."

Stiles looked at him in surprise, his mouth dropping open. _He loved him? That seemed fast, seeing how they barely knew each other_.

Jason looked hurt. "Don't you love me too?" He asked, sadly.

"I – I love you too," Stiles said, surprising himself with the boldfaced lie. _How could he know if he truly loved him, after only one date? But what could he say in response that wouldn't hurt the other man's feelings? Oh, I think I might be in lust with you, cause you're so hot? Better to just repeat the phrase, and hope it all panned out in the end. Who knows, Jason could in fact be his soul-mate. THE one. His very own prince charming. Time would tell._

Over the next few weeks, they continued to text and call each other. Jason insisted on skyping Stiles so they could talk face to face. Although it was quite fun at first, Stiles soon began to feel the impact of staying up so late every night. His friends started asking why Stiles was starting to fall asleep in class, and why his phone would annoyingly chirp every few minutes with a text from Jason.

"Dude, you don't have to answer it every time," Scott told him, as he watched his best friend read Jason's latest text. "Just tell him you're in class, and you can't answer it until school's over."

Stiles shook his head. "He gets mad if I don't answer him right away. He's just really persistent."

"That's kind of weird, Stiles." Scott told him, concerned. "Besides, you need to stay focused in class. Exams are in a few days, and you look like you haven't slept in days."

"That's because I haven't," Stiles groaned, resting his head on the table. "I've been up all night studying and texting Jason. I've been getting like, four hours a night. I'm running on fumes, and I can barely keep my eyes open."

Scott put his hand out. "Give me your phone," He said. Stiles gave it to him without question. He watched as Scott unlocked it, and looked up Jason in his contact list.

"I'm going to call him," Scott explained, as he dialled Jason's number. Stiles sat up straighter in his seat, and watched his best friend listen intently.

"Stiles! What's up, babe?" Jason asked.

"This isn't Stiles," Scott said. "It's Scott. I was wondering if you could do me a favour."

"I'm listening." Jason said, coldly.

"Exams are coming up in a few days, and Stiles really, really needs to study. Distraction-free. I was wondering if you could cut back on your late-night skyping convo's. I want my friend to graduate." Scott said, calmly.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Jason asked, angrily. "How is that any of your business?"

Stiles gnawed on his thumbnail as he listened to Scott talk. He could hear Jason clearly from his seat. He sounded pissed off.

"He's falling asleep in class. It's affecting his grades, cause you're constantly texting him." Scott said, firmly. "Stiles is my best friend. I'm _making_ it my business."

"Put Stiles on the phone." Jason said, through gritted teeth.

Scott passed the phone to Stiles.

"Hi, Jason." Stiles said, nervously.

"What the hell is going on?"

"He's worried about me." Stiles said, shrugging.

"Do you want me to stop calling you? Cause I can end this relationship right now, if that's what you want." Jason said, angrily. "I thought you loved me."

"I do!" Stiles said, meaning it. "I do love you. I just – need some space until exams are over."

"Is there another guy? Are you fooling around on me with someone else?" Jason snarled into the phone. "If I find out you've been cheating on me, there'll be hell to pay."

Stiles was confused by Jason's sudden anger. _Another guy? He'd never cheated on Jason, ever. He'd never heard his boyfriend so angry, so aggressive. Though he suspected most of that anger was directed at Scott for interfering, it still took him by surprise. _

"No." He finally answered.

"You hesitated."

"There's no one else, I swear. Only you!" Stiles insisted.

"You'd better hope so."

Stiles took a deep breath. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you. I love you, you're my sweetie. Go on skype tonight?" Jason said, his entire demeanor changing. Stiles glanced up at Scott.

"I – I can't. I'm studying chemistry with Scott and Isaac tonight," Stiles told him. "I need to pass that exam."

"Text me when you're done. I'll wait up for you." Jason said, hanging up the phone.


	2. Jason's proposal

Stiles drove home in his jeep after spending the last few hours desperately studying with Isaac and Scott. _I need all the help I can get_, he thought. _I need to pass so badly_. Stiles was surprised to see Jason's car sitting in the driveway alongside his dad's police car.

_Weird_, He thought_. I thought we were going to skype later, and now he's at my house instead._

He found Jason sitting at the kitchen table, chatting with his dad over a cup of coffee. Stiles set his backpack down on the floor, watching Jason and his dad talk animatedly over sports. The Sheriff glanced up, and grinned at his son.

"Oh, Stiles! You're home." the Sheriff said. "Jason dropped by about half an hour ago."

Jason smiled at his boyfriend. "I didn't know your dad was the Sheriff! That's awesome. Did you know we both like the same TV shows? What a coincidence."

The Sheriff stood up, and put the mugs in the sink. "Well, I'm going to watch the news. I take it you guys are going upstairs to study?" He asked. Jason nodded.

As soon as Stiles' bedroom door was closed, Jason started kissing him, gently wrapping his arms around him. He broke off the kiss, and looked Stiles in the eye.

"I'm so sorry for being a douche earlier," He said, apologetically. "I was really rude to you and Scott. He just caught me off guard, and I reacted poorly. Will you forgive me?"

Stiles nodded. "It's okay." He said. "What are you doing here? I thought we were just going to be skyping tonight."

Jason looked down at the floor. "I wanted to surprise you. Aren't you happy to see me?" He asked, sadly.

"Well, yeah. Of course. I'm always glad to see you. I just –"

"I drove all this way to see you in person." Jason said. "I just _had_ to see you. I missed you."

"Yeah." Stiles said. He felt a weird sensation in his belly, something he just couldn't quite put his finger on. Something seemed . . . off. Stiles tried to brush it off as Jason kissed him on the lips.

"I got you a present," Jason told him, reaching into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a tiny Ewok keychain, pressing it into Stiles' hand. "I saw this online, and I thought you might like it."

Stiles grinned at him. "Thanks," He said, "That's so sweet." He attached the keychain to his jeep keys, and set it down on the desk.

Jason led him to the bed, and pushed him backwards until Stiles was lying down. He started to kiss him, pinning Stiles' wrists over his head. Stiles moaned, as Jason started to kiss his neck. The feeling of Jason's lips against his warm skin was exquisite. He closed his eyes, enjoying himself.

Jason reached out, gliding his fingers along Stiles' bare arm. Feeling his warm skin under his hand, touching the soft cleft at his wrist, the quickened pounding of his pulse. He rubbed his thumb along Stiles' knuckles, his olive skin contrasted against his creamy, pale complexion.

Stiles tried to pull one of his hands free, but Jason tightened his grip.

"Stop moving," Jason whispered. "I just want to make you feel good."

He felt a bit panicky, as Jason continued to push his wrists into the pillow, not relenting his tight grip, as he continued to kiss Stiles' slender neck.

"Jason, I –"

"Shhh," Jason said, "stop squirming around."

"Let go of me." Stiles insisted, moving his head to the side. He felt slightly embarrassed, as Jason released him, and sat on the end of the bed.

"What did I do wrong?" Jason asked him, confused. "Don't you love me?"

Stiles' stomach twisted, as he rubbed his sore wrists. _Of course he loved him. He did. Then why did he feel so guilty? Like he'd done something wrong?_

"I – I don't like being pinned down. It scares me." Stiles finally said. "I feel so vulnerable."

"I would never hurt you, honey." Jason said, reaching out to cup Stiles' chin in his hand. "Trust me." And unfortunately, Stiles did.

Stiles was so proud to see Jason sitting beside Melissa McCall and Sheriff Stilinski at his Graduation Ceremony. He turned around in his seat to wave at them, as he listened to Allison's valedictorian speech. _They were finally here_, he thought. _All those years of gruelling schoolwork, and him and his friends were finally high school graduates. _

Stiles knew that Allison and Isaac were going to leave for their backpacking trip to Europe soon. Scott and Kira were preparing to leave for University that same week. He didn't really have anyone to hang out with that summer, so Stiles ended up spending alot of time surfing the net, and driving around town in Jason's car.

It was the end of a sweltering August day, and Stiles was lying on the porch. He heard someone walk up the wooden stairs, and Stiles cracked open one eye, and was pleased to see Jason standing in front of him.

"Hey," Stiles said, grinning.

"Hey, Stiles." Jason told him, sitting down beside him. He held out a bouquet of flowers, and Stiles took them, burying his nose into the sweet-smelling flowers.

"It's our three month anniversary." Jason explained, in response to Stiles' arched eyebrow. "I need to ask you something."

"What?"

"Do you want to move in with me?" Jason asked, excitedly. "Oh, please say yes."

Stiles gawped at him. "You serious?" He asked, surprised.

"Of course. I love you, Stiles."

"Where, here in Beacon Hills? Or move into your house in Harrison?" Stiles asked, confused.

"I was thinking my house in Harrison." Jason told him. Stiles gave it some thought.

"Okay." He finally said, as Jason pulled him into a hug.


	3. Rigby

"You're seriously moving in with him?" Scott asked, dubiously. "Isn't that a bit fast?" Scott gave him a concerned look, as they walked through the mall.

"It's been three months. That's not too fast." Stiles said, defensively.

"It kinda is."

"That's what my dad said, too. He's not thrilled that I'm taking off to Harrison." Stiles said. "Truth is, I don't really want to leave Beacon Hills. I _like_ living close to my friends, and I want to be near my dad. I tried to get Jason to look at apartments with me last week, here in Beacon Hills. He flat out refused. He only wants to live in his house, which is way out in the boonies."

"I'll come visit you." Scott promised. "I'll be in town for Christmas and Easter Break. We should do something fun."

Stiles grinned at him. "Yeah," He said. "And you can always text or skype me."

The Sheriff offered to drive Stiles and his stuff over to Jason's house on moving day. His dad stood in the doorway of Stiles' bedroom, sadly watching as his son removed all the posters from his bedroom walls. The bare walls looked strange – he'd never seen Stiles' room look so empty. He missed the chaotic, lived-in mess his son usually left behind. They'd spent the last few days boxing up all of Stiles' possessions, and loading them into the back of his jeep.

"Dad, I'll still visit you," Stiles said, glancing up at him. "It's Harrison. That's only twenty miles away. You act like I'm moving to Sweden or something."

"Kid, it feels like it." The Sheriff said, hefting up the last cardboard box. He carried it down the stairs, and set it in the police cruiser. He was worried that his son was prepared to carve out a life with someone he'd only met a few months ago. It felt rushed. As nice as Jason seemed to be, the Sheriff felt a bit leery of the way his son jumped at the chance to move in with him. He wondered if his worrying stemmed from being a cop , or just from being an overprotective single father.

"Ready to go?" The Sheriff asked, as his son bounded down the stairs, the plastic bag filled with his rolled up posters in his hand.

"Ready." He said, sliding into the driver's seat of his jeep. His dad followed behind in his police cruiser, as they drove out of Beacon Hills.

Stiles had only been to Jason's house twice, and even then it had only been briefly. He pulled up in front of the weather-beaten blue house, and hopped out. 136 Bowen Avenue. Jason lived on one acre of land, at the end of a dead-end street. The yard was filled with scraggly, knee-high weeds. The property looked unkempt.

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. "This is it?" He asked, unimpressed.

"It needs work." Stiles said, as he watched Jason prop open the screen door. He walked out, barefoot and only wearing a torn pair of jeans.

"Come in!" Jason told them, giving them a quick tour of the house. The master bedroom had piles of dirty laundry heaped on the floor. The bed had a large, brass headboard, and mismatched throw pillows. Jason showed them the spare bedroom, which housed Jason's computer, and drum set. He showed them the bathroom and the kitchen, which was filthy. The living room was full of empty beer cans, and ripped blankets heaped on the armchair.

Stiles could see that his dad was unimpressed by Jason's home, as they brought the boxes in from the car.

"You don't have to do this, you know." Sheriff told him, as they stood beside the cruiser. "If ever you get sick of living here, call me and I'll pick you up."

"Okay." Stiles said, as his father pulled him into a hug. "I'll be fine."

Stiles watched his dad drive away, then went back into the house. Jason was sitting on the couch. There was a tiny cardboard box in his lap.

"I got you something," Jason told him. "Welcome home, Stiles."

Stiles sat down on the lumpy cushions, and picked up the present. It was light. He was shocked when he opened it, to discover a small golden retriever puppy curled up inside. Stiles' mouth dropped open, as he picked up the puppy.

"Oh, my God!" Stiles exclaimed, beaming at his boyfriend. "A puppy!"

"She's all yours. What do you want to name her?" Jason asked, reaching out to stroke the puppy's soft fur.

"Eleanor Rigby," Stiles said, looking down at the tiny golden retriever snuggled in his arms. "That's her name. Rigby, for short."

"Who the hell is Eleanor Rigby?" Jason asked, confused.

"From the Beatles song my mom used to sing all the time, before she got sick." Stiles explained. He hummed the tune, seeing Jason's eyes light up with recognition.

"That's the song you were singing in the car the other day."

"Yeah."

"Rigby. That's a nice name." Jason said.

When Stiles woke up the next morning, the first thing he saw was Rigby curled up on the pillow. He smiled, and patted her on the head. Rigby opened her eyes, and stared up at him.

"Hi, Rigby." Stiles whispered. _He'd never owned a dog before. He once had a snake when he was ten. _"You're so cute," Stiles told the dog.

Jason walked in, and watched as Stiles kissed the tiny puppy on the top of her head. He was wearing a pair of yellow marigolds on his hands, and he was holding a broom.

"I need your help. I'm hosting a party tonight, so we gotta clean up this place." Jason said, handing him the broom.

"When is the party?" Stiles asked, as he swept out the bedroom. "How many people will be here?"

"I dunno, probably like thirty or forty." Jason said. "They're coming over in a few hours."

Stiles glanced around the tiny bungalow. _Where were they going to fit thirty or forty people? And why the hell didn't Jason start cleaning days ago, if he knew he was hosting a party? The place was a dump._ He quickly got to work collecting empty beer cans, and scrubbing the crusty pile of dishes in the sink. By the time the first few guests had arrived, the place was barely ready.

"You must be Stiles," one of the guests said, smiling at him. "I'm Seth. Jason's best friend."

Stiles shook the man's hand. Seth was short, with a loud, raucous laugh, and a tribal tattoo on his forearm. Stiles was introduced to the rest of the guests. There were so many people coming and going, that Stiles was having a hard time keeping everyone's name in his head. Most of the partygoers were students from the high school, while the rest looked college aged.

Midway through the party, Seth and Jason started passing out joints to all the guests. Stiles felt uncomfortable as he watched the drunk teens sucking back on the joints. A girl who looked fourteen or fifteen was sitting on Seth's lap, his hands under her skirt. Stiles got up, and pulled Jason aside.

"Dude, you should go talk to your friend. He's all over that girl. She's super drunk." Stiles said, nervously.

Jason laughed. "Hell, no. That's Kiesha Coleman. He's been trying to get into her pants for months. Seth is getting some tonight, I tell ya."

Stiles stared at him, disgusted. "She looks fourteen."

"He likes them young. Don't worry about it, Stiles." Jason told him, pushing a joint into his hand. Stiles shot him a filthy look, and stepped back a few feet.

"Don't be such a prick. I'm taking her home." Stiles said, walking into the living room. He pulled Kiesha off Seth's lap, and took her outside.

"Where do you live?" He asked, as he loaded the drunk girl into his jeep. She managed to point him in the right direction, before passing out against the car door. Stiles pulled up to her house, and knocked on the door. Her mom answered.

"Mrs. Coleman? I'm Stiles. Your daughter was at my boyfriend's house party, but this guy was messing with her, so I drove her home." Stiles told the woman.

"Who's your boyfriend?" She asked, as they carried the girl out of the jeep.

"Jason Brightley."

"That boy is nothing but trouble," Mrs. Coleman said, frowning. "How long have you known him?"

"A few months." Stiles said, laying the sleeping teen on the couch.

"He hit you yet?" She asked, watching Stiles' face.

"What?" Stiles asked, shocked_. Surely, he must've heard wrong. He could never imagine Jason hitting him. _

"My son's friend used to date Jason a few years back. Said he had the meanest temper in town. Hit him a few times, especially when he was drunk." Mrs. Coleman told him.

"Maybe we're thinking of a different Jason," Stiles said, unsure.

"Tall, black curls? Romanian looking kid?" She asked, following him back to his jeep. Stiles nodded.

"Yeah, that's the sonofabitch." She said, giving Stiles a sympathetic look. "I'd get out while you still can."


	4. Accusations

When Stiles parked the jeep outside of Jason's house, he could see that the party was still in full swing_. I guess that's a good thing there are hardly any neighbours on the street_, Stiles thought. _The music was blaring at two in the morning, and pot smoke was seeping out of the house. Jason was lucky that nobody had called the cops yet._

He went inside, stepping over drunk kids sprawled out on the living room floor. Somebody had tipped over a bottle of beer on the floor, leaving a sticky mess under his sneakers. Stiles coughed on the thick smoke, and escaped into the bedroom. He shut the door, trying to block out the noise.

"Rigby?" He called out, looking around. He heard a whimper from under the bed, and found the puppy hiding amongst the dirty clothes. He pulled her out, and hugged her close to his chest.

"Hey," He whispered, trying to console her. "It's okay, we're okay."Stiles felt homesick, suddenly. He missed his dad. He missed Scott. He wished he was in his old bedroom.

The door opened, and Jason walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"Seth's pretty pissed that you took Kiesha home," He said, sitting on the bed. "Best to stay out of his way for a while."

Stiles ignored him, as he rubbed Rigby's ears.

"You're not smoking anything tonight?" Jason asked.

"No."

"You want a drink? Cold beers are in the fridge."

"I'm good." Stiles told him, looking up at Jason. He suddenly remembered the conversation with Mrs. Coleman, and he wondered how much truth there was in her story.

"I talked to Mrs. Coleman earlier. She asked if you'd hit me yet." Stiles said, keeping his face neutral. "Said you'd hit your ex-boyfriend."

"Coleman's a nosy bitch," Jason said, scowling. "Don't listen to that hag."

"Is there truth to her story?" Stiles asked. _He needed to know_.

"Babe," Jason said, annoyed. "I don't go around hitting people. She's a liar."

"Okay." Stiles said, relieved. He decided to drop the subject. Stiles watched as Jason went back into the party. He turned off the lights, and crawled into bed. He eventually fell asleep to the pounding sounds of the music blaring in the next room.

The next day, Stiles texted Scott and Isaac, and invited them to hang out at Jason's house. They showed up on Scott's motorcycle that afternoon.

"It's weird, not seeing you everyday." Scott told him, hugging Stiles.

"So, this is Jason's," Isaac said, looking around the messy living room. "Nice."

"I know it's messy, but believe it or not, I actually spent a few hours trying to clean up before you guys came over." Stiles said. "Jason threw a huge party last night, and they completely trashed the place."

"It's okay," Scott told him. "Wanna play Xbox?" He asked, looking through the stack of games. He picked out Call of Duty. Isaac didn't want to play, so Scott and Stiles both grabbed a controller and started up the game.

Stiles leaned forward, eyes on the screen. "So, this may or may not be true, but someone in town told me that Jason used to hit his ex."

"Seriously?" Isaac asked, staring wide-eyed at Stiles. "Did he –"

"Don't worry – he hasn't hit me or anything." Stiles said, concentrating on the game. "He said it wasn't true."

"Do you believe him?" Isaac asked.

"Yeah."

Scott paused the game, and turned to look at Stiles. He looked worried.

"You'd tell us, though. Right? If he ever hurts you, call me. Or your dad." Scott said. "You don't need to take that from anyone. Ever."

"Yeah, we could always bury him out in the woods, if you wanted. Just say the word." Isaac joked. Scott shot him a look.

"Isaac." He said, disapprovingly. Isaac smirked, and took a gulp of his energy drink.

When Jason came home from work that night, he was surprised to see Scott and Isaac in the living room.

"Hey," He said, nodding at Isaac. Jason ignored Scott altogether, as he disappeared into the bedroom.

"You guys staying for dinner?" Stiles asked. They shook their heads.

"No, I got a shift at the animal clinic tonight." Scott said. "Isaac, you staying longer?"

"I gotta go. I have to pack for Europe tonight." He said, standing up.

They put on their helmets, and drove back to Beacon Hills. Stiles was sad to see his friends leave. He liked hanging out with them, and he knew that now that Isaac was leaving for Europe, and Scott was going to University, he had no one to hang out with while Jason was at work.

Stiles went into the kitchen, and started digging through the cupboards to find something to make for dinner. Jason walked in, and leaned against the counter.

"I don't like that kid." He said, frowning. "Your friend is always giving me the stink eye, like I've done something wrong."

"Who, Isaac?" Stiles asked, searching for the can opener. He found it in the back of the cutlery drawer, and opened a can of brown beans.

"No, Scott." Jason told him. "I don't want him coming around here anymore."

Stiles frowned. "He's my best friend."

"Well, it's my house. I should have a say who gets to come around," Jason told him, snottily. "And that kid has hated me since we started dating."

"Scott's a really nice guy," Stiles said, frowning. He dug the beans out with a fork, and started to heat them up in the saucepan. "We've been like brothers for so long. Besides, he's leaving for University in a few days. I just want to be able to hang out with him before he leaves."

"Not in my house." Jason stared out the kitchen window, his jaw clenching.

Stiles took out two plates, and set them on the counter. He started to butter the toast, as he watched Jason from the corner of his eye.

"Wanna watch a movie or something?" He asked. Jason nodded.

They settled on a film, and Stiles leaned against Jason as they watched it. It was nearly midnight, when Jason started to yawn.

"Y'know, I think it would be good if you cooked dinner every night." Jason said, his hand rubbing Stiles' thigh as he spoke. "Since I'm at work all day, it would be nice if you could do the dishes and clean up some while you're here."

Stiles nodded. "Sure," He said, watching the TV. "I can do that."

A few days later, Stiles and Jason went into town to pick up some groceries at the store. Jason's fridge only had a few bottles of condiments, and a case of beer. The cupboards were nearly empty. He grabbed a cart, and started to fill it up with yogurt, bread, milk and veggies.

When they went through the till, Jason paid for the groceries with his debit card. Stiles bagged the food, and carried it out to the jeep. They made dinner, eating in front of the TV. Stiles was reading, when Jason sat down on the couch beside him.

"You liked him, didn't you?" Jason asked, glaring at Stiles. "I bet you wanted to fuck him."

Stiles looked up from his book. "Who?" He asked, confused. _What the hell was he talking about? Am I missing something here?_

"That cashier at the grocery store. The one with the lip piercing. I saw the way you looked at him. Bet you wanted a piece of that." Jason said, squinting.

"Jason," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "I barely noticed the cashier. I was too busy packing our groceries. I'm not a cheater." He said, putting the book in his lap.

"I _saw_ you." Jason insisted. "You really think I'm that naive? I know you wanted him."

"Can you stop being paranoid for two seconds?" Stiles said, standing up. "I'm trying to read my book, and you're acting really weird." He went into the bedroom, and flopped down on the bed.

"Why won't you just admit it?" Jason asked, angrily, as he followed Stiles into the bedroom. "How many times have you cheated on me?"

"None." Stiles said, raising his eyebrows. "Jesus Christ, Jason. You're delusional. I've never cheated on you. So stop being an asshole, already."

"I'm right, aren't I?" He said, his fists balled up at his sides. "You little whore."

Stiles gave him a sarcastic little smirk. "I think your weed is making you way too paranoid, Jason. Seriously, maybe you should cut back a little."

Jason reared back, and smacked Stiles across the face. He fell back onto the bed, staring up at Jason, horrified. His cheek burned. At a complete loss for words, his mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. _So, it was true_, he thought_. He should've listened to Mrs. Coleman's warning._

Jason put a hand through his tousled hair. "Oh, my god," He said. "Stiles – I didn't mean to!"

Jason reached out to him, but Stiles jerked away. "Don't touch me." He said, crawling backwards.

"I didn't mean – I wouldn't – " Jason stammered, before rushing out of the room. Stiles could hear Jason's Honda start up in the driveway, and watched through the bedroom window as he sped off.

Stiles' hands were shaking as he put on his sneakers. _He had to get out of there. How could he have been so stupid?_ He wiped his tears onto his sleeve, and grabbed his backpack. He started cramming it full of his stuff. _I should call Scott_, He thought. He was searching for his cell phone, when he heard the front door open. Jason was standing in the bedroom doorway, watching him sadly.

"You're leaving?" He said.

Stiles turned around and glared at him. "You hit me." He said, angrily. "What do you think, dumbass?"

"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you." Jason told him, and Stiles could see that he was crying. He looked so heartbroken. "I lost control. I'm so sorry, Stiles."

"Please don't leave me," Jason begged. "It was an accident."

"Get out of my way." Stiles told him, coldly. "I'm going home."

He flinched when Jason reached out to him, and wrapped his arms around Stiles.

"I love you." Jason whispered. "Please forgive me." Stiles felt conflicted as Jason hugged him. Part of him wanted to run and never look back, just get the hell out of there. But part of him felt insanely guilty. Jason obviously felt terrible for what he'd done, and it would be unfair to give him a second chance. Stiles decided to stay, at least for the rest of the night. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning, and he was completely exhausted.

He put his bag down, and laid on the bed. Jason tried to put his arm around him, but Stiles shook him off.

"Don't touch me, right now." He said, tiredly. "I just wanna get some sleep."

Stiles closed his eyes, and was half-asleep when he felt Jason lift up his shirt, and start to tug on his belt.

"Stop," Stiles said, as Jason started to undo his belt. He grabbed Jason's wrist, and pulled it away. He was still mad at Jason for hitting him, and the last thing he felt like doing was having sex.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked, concerned. "Don't you want me to show you how much I love you?"

"I don't want to have sex tonight," Stiles whispered. "I'm still mad at you."

"I'll make it up to you," Jason said, snaking a hand under Stiles' shirt. "Just lie back."

Stiles sat up, and pushed him away. "Don't touch me." He said, firmly. Jason finally backed off, and stretched out beside him.


	5. Unemployed

Jason took Stiles out to dinner, using the majority of his paycheque to pay for the extravagant meal. He also bought a bouquet of yellow flowers, and an expensive bottle of wine. Stiles would've settled on a less expensive meal, but Jason insisted that they needed to treat themselves.

"When I said we need to talk about what happened last night, I didn't think that meant blowing all our finances on one meal." Stiles said, as they were ushered to their table. "Groceries will be tight this month."

Jason took his hand, and squeezed it, gently. "I want to make it up to you. I had no right to treat you the way I did. I'm so, so sorry." He said, as he leaned forward to kiss Stiles on the cheek. "Please accept my apology."

Stiles squirmed a little, as he glanced up at Jason. "I want to believe your apology is genuine. I really do. But I'm still mad as hell."

"And you have every right to be," Jason agreed. "I acted like a piece of shit."

Stiles picked up his menu, and flipped through it. "I need you to promise me you'll never hit me again. If you hurt me, I will leave you."

Jason stared down at the tablecloth. "I promise," He whispered. "I love you so much, Stiles."

Two days later, Jason walked in, and slammed the door as hard as he could. The noise made Stiles jump, as he looked up at his boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" He asked, surprised by the fierce look on Jason's face. "What happened?"

"I got fired." Jason said, kicking the coffee table with his boot. "That bastard Wilkins said I was stealing money from the register. Which I never did. He totally has it out for me, the slimy bastard."

Stiles got up, and grabbed Jason's hand. "You okay?" He asked.

"What a stupid fucking question, Stiles. Of course I'm not okay. We just lost our only source of income, and money was tight to begin with." Jason said, his voice getting louder. "You know how embarrassing it was, to be fired like that? It's a pretty small town, I'm sure everyone will find out about it by the end of the day. News travels fast."

"You could apply at the grocery store, or the hardware store." Stiles suggested. "I could help you work on your resume, if you want."

"Nobody's gonna hire me if they think I'm a thief." Jason stalked into the kitchen, and grabbed a mason jar off the shelf. He filled it with water, and took a gulp. "I'll never get a job in Harrison again."

"Then _I'll_ apply." Stiles said. "Maybe I can find work."

Jason stared at the jar in his hand, then chucked it against the wall. It shattered, spraying bits of glass against the floor.

"We should go pay Wilkins a little visit," Jason suggested. "Pour gasoline on his car and light it on fire. Or better yet, light his family on fire and make him watch."

Stiles' stomach plummeted as he listened to Jason plot out the grisly murder. "Jason, stop." He said, putting a hand on Jason's arm. Jason shrugged it off, and reached for another mason jar. He threw it against the wall, and grinned as the glass crashed onto the linoleum floor.

"Or we could kill his beloved dog and send him the remains in the mail. That'd be a lovely surprise." Jason picked up the glass mixing bowl. He hefted it in his hand, feeling its' weight. Stiles snatched it out of Jason's grip, and placed it on the counter.

"Look, obviously you're angry. But breaking everything isn't gonna solve our problems. Especially since replacing all our broken dishes will cost a fortune." Stiles said, trying to calm Jason down before he caused anymore damage. "And murdering your boss is just going to put you in jail. Is that what you want?"

"I have every right to be angry." Jason said, in a chilling voice. "I need a drink. Something strong." He took the bottle of vodka out of the cupboard, and made himself a screwdriver. He downed it, then brought the bottle with him to the living room. Stiles grabbed the broom, and started to sweep up the chunks of glass on the floor.

Stiles went out onto the porch, and picked up the lacrosse stick. He watched with amusement as Rigby bounced excitedly at his feet.

"Come on, girl," Stiles said, grabbing the bag of tennis balls. They went to the shed.

He threw the fuzzy, yellow ball for Rigby, and watched as she chased after it.

Thwump! The hard, white ball slammed against the side of the shed. It made a satisfying sound. He scooped it up, and threw it repeatedly. Rigby jumped up, and put her muddied paws on his shirt. He laughed, and patted her on the head.

"Hey, can I join you?"

Stiles turned around and saw Scott. He grinned.

"Hey, I thought you were leaving today for University!" He said, walking over.

"Wasn't gonna leave town without saying goodbye." Scott told him, crouching down to pet Rigby. "My mom dropped me off. She's just filling up at the gas station."

"Oh, okay."

"How's life?" Scott asked him, taking the ball out of Rigby's mouth, and chucking it across the yard.

"Jason lost his job." Stiles said. "I've been looking for work, but so far no luck."

"That sucks." He said, sympathetically.

"You're all ready for school?" Stiles asked, throwing the ball against the shed with a loud thump.

"Yeah." Scott said.

Later that night, Jason insisted that they needed to go out to the bar. Though Stiles wasn't legal drinking age, he had a fake ID that looked genuine enough to pass as the real thing. The ID claimed Stiles was twenty-two, the same age as Jason.

"I don't think we should go," Stiles said. "We hardly even have any money."

"I'm having a terrible day. We're out of vodka, and I desperately need to get my fix. Now, if we go to the bar, we could easily get a few free drinks."

"How?"

"By flirting. Dance with a few guys, bat my pretty eyelashes, anything it takes." Jason told him. "Believe me, I'm pretty enough to get a few guys to send us drinks our way."

"You mean to send _you_ drinks," Stiles corrected, grabbing his car keys.

"Exactly, babe." Jason smiled.

"Stiles had only been to the bar once before, and he'd never ordered hs own drinks. Jason gave him money, and told him to buy the beers. He waited in line. The bartender was a tall, broad man with thick black hair. The man grumpily stared at Stiles as he handed him his ten dollar bill. _He's kind of intimidating_. _Wouldn't want to mess with him, he looks like he could beat the crap out of someone._

"Two beers, please." He said, watching the bartender pour shots for a customer. The bartender raised his eyebrows at Stiles. "You look a little young to be in here," He said. "You got ID?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, and pulled the plastic card out of his wallet. He handed it to the man, and watched with amusement he read the name on the card.

"Uhh . . . How do you pronouce –" He asked, rereading the name.

"I go by Stiles." He replied, smirking.

"Okay, _Stiles_." The man said, handing him two beers. Stiles looked at the man's nametag.

"Okay, _Derek_." He said, cockily moving his head as he spoke. Derek laughed, and turned to help the next customer.

Stiles found Jason sitting at a table in the back of the bar. He handed Jason one of the beers, and sat down.

"What was that guy asking you?" Jason asked, with a hint of annoyance. "You weren't flirting, were you?"

"No." Stiles said. "He wanted to see my ID. Said I looked young."

Jason peered over Stiles' head at the bartender. "You think he's hot, don't you."

Stiles shrugged. "Whether I find someone attractive or not, doesn't mean I'm going to act on it. _I'm with you_." He said, sipping his beer.

"Good." Jason growled, digging his nails into Stiles' thigh. "Cause if I ever catch you with another guy, I'll kill you."

Stiles tried to pry Jason's hand off his leg. "Dude, that fucking hurts," he said, wincing. "Knock it off. And quit being paranoid. Every time I talk to someone, you're asking if I'm flirting with them, or cheating on you. Just trust me already."

Jason let go of him, and finished off his beer. "I feel like dancing. You wanna dance?" He asked, his voice suddenly cheery. Stiles looked at him, confused. _How does he go from hurting him to nice and pleasant in two seconds flat_? It unnerved Stiles, and it meant that sometimes he wasn't sure what to expect from Jason. There was often no way of knowing whether he was in a nice mood, or about to fly into a terrible rage.


	6. Panic attack

Stiles zippered up his hoody, and took Rigby outside for a walk. It was the end of October, nearly Halloween. It was blustery and rainy out, so Stiles flipped up his hood, and tightened the leash around his wrist. He'd been looking for a job for a few weeks, but so far he'd had no luck. Jason was supposed to be job hunting as well, but mostly him and Seth stayed in the living room all day and smoked pot. It was frustrating for Stiles, especially since they were both nearly out of money. He stopped at the Harrison library, and tied Rigby up to the bike rack outside.

"I'll be back soon," He told her, rubbing her soft ears. She barked, and laid down.

The building was incredibly warm, and Stiles wished he could stay there all day. He booked a computer, and printed off a dozen resumes. He needed to get a job, the sooner the better. They were nearly out of food. Their only saving grace was the local food bank. Stiles had gone in two weeks ago, and had been given three bags of canned food, and a few loaves of bread.

Stiles stapled the resumes, and slipped them into his backpack. He untied Rigby, and took a walk up and down Main Street, begging every store owner for a job. Part time, full time, under the table, Stiles didn't care. He needed to buy food and dog food, and pay for heating oil. They'd run out, again. The house was freezing cold. The power company was threatening to shut off their power since Jason hadn't paid them in two months. Stiles was starting to feel depressed as he spent hours going over the finances with Jason, struggling to make it work.

The sky was darkening, so Stiles stopped by at the grocery store. He spent the last of his money on a package of bologna, and a few tins of dog food. As he was walking home, a car slowed behind him. Stiles glanced over his shoulder, and grinned when he saw his dad behind the wheel.

"Need a ride?" The Sheriff asked, pulling over. "I finished work early today, so I figured I'd drop by and see how you're doing."

Stiles put Rigby in the back of the car, and got into the passenger seat.

"It's so good to see you! I missed you. " Stiles said, automatically reaching for the radio dial. He switched it to his favourite radio station, and started bobbing his head to the music.

The Sheriff glanced at him as he drove, smiling. "How have you been?" He asked, genuinely interested. Stiles shrugged.

"Still looking for work." He said. "Keeping my head above water."

"You've lost weight." His dad commented, glancing at Stiles. The Sheriff noticed how baggy his son's hoody was, and his gaunt face.

"Yeah." Stiles said.

"Have you been eating properly?"He asked, concerned. "If you need any food, I can take you to the store. I'll buy you groceries."

Stiles felt a deep gratitude for his dad, and he thanked him profusely. They turned around, and drove back to the store. They spent the next hour picking out enough groceries to last a month. His dad even bought a large bag of food for Rigby, and a doggy bed for her to sleep on. Stiles hugged him, as they loaded the groceries into the back of the police car.

The Sheriff drove to Jason's house, and helped Stiles unload the groceries. Stiles felt relief when he opened the front door and realized that Seth and Jason weren't there. The house reeked of pot smoke, and The Sheriff gave his son a disapproving look.

"Don't look at me," Stiles laughed. "I don't smoke that crap. That's all Jason."

For the first time since Stiles had moved in, the fridge was completely full. It was a good feeling. He felt like a rich person, as he stared at the fridge's contents. His dad noticed, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Anytime you need money, or food, just call me." He said. "I mean it."

"Can I borrow three hundred dollars?" Stiles asked. "I need to buy some heating oil."

The Sheriff shivered, realizing for the first time how cold it was in the house. "How long has the heating been out?" He asked.

"Ten days." Stiles said.

"Come on, I'll get your heating back on." He said, as they got back in the car.

When Jason came home a few hours later, he was surprised to walk into the warm house. The delicious scent of the chicken drumsticks cooking in the oven filled the house. He went into the kitchen, and saw the Sheriff leaning against the counter, chatting with Stiles.

"Hey, Mr. Stilinski. What's going on?" Jason asked.

"Hi, Jason. Supper's almost ready." He said. "Well, I gotta go. I'll see you later, boys."

Stiles turned off the oven, and took out the chicken. He'd cooked it in shake 'n bake, and it looked really good.

"The heating's on," Jason said, puzzled. "And we have food?"

"My dad took me to the store, and we bought a bunch of stuff." Stiles said, excitedly sliding across the kitchen floor on his socked feet. He pulled open the fridge, and showed Jason. "Check it out," He said, grinning.

"Nice," Jason said. They made up a plate of food, and sat in front of the TV to eat. When Stiles was finished, he filled the sink with hot water and dish soap. He was nearly finished the load, when Jason walked into the kitchen, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm going to the bar tonight, babe." Jason said. "Are you coming with me?" He asked, as he put the dishes in the sink.

"We don't have any money." Stiles told him, as he scrubbed the greasy plate.

"I have some." Jason said, flashing a few twenties from his wallet. Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"Yo! Where'd you get that kind of money?" He asked.

"I sold some of my DVD's to Seth's sister." Jason said, grabbing the car keys. "Come on, let's get drunk!"

"Why don't you use it for something better, like paying back the power company?" Stiles asked. "You owe them hundreds."

"I wanna get drunk." Jason said, obstinately. "Besides, it's _my_ money."

Stiles grabbed his hoody, and flicked off the lights. He followed Jason to the car. They stopped a few times to pick up Seth, and a few of Jason's friends. They all crammed into the back of his car, one of the girls sitting on Stiles' lap as they drove. As soon as Jason parked outside the bar, everyone spilled out onto the pavement.

Derek nodded at Stiles as he walked up to the bar.

"You're back," He said, with barely a hint of a smile.

"Hey," Stiles said, pleased that Derek remembered him. "I need to start a tab for our table." He said, pointing out their table. "Also, I need six beers."

"Alright," Derek said. "Coming right up."

Jason was in a really good mood that night, as he dragged Stiles onto the dance floor, grinding against him. Stiles flailed along to the beat, energetically dancing to the electronic music. They danced for two hours, until finally, Stiles had to take a break. He bought a beer, and sat on one of the bar stools.

"Thirsty work," Derek said, watching as Stiles gulped back the beer.

"I'm parched."

"That your boyfriend?" Derek asked, watching Jason and Seth dance.

"Yeah. The tall one is. That's Jason. The short one's his friend, Seth. I don't like that guy." Stiles said, finishing his beer. "He's a douche."

Derek laughed. "You don't say."

"See ya, Derek." Stiles handed him the empty bottle, and rejoined the group on the dance floor.

"I can't believe you," Jason said, angrily, as he stared out the rain-soaked windshield. "Why did I even bring you with me? God, you're such an embarrassment, Stiles."

Stiles stared ahead out of the window, trying to block out Jason's voice. _It wasn't his fault that he'd had a panic attack in the middle of the dance floor. All those people pushing up against him, the loud, reverberating noise, the shots he'd forced down his throat, it had all just been too much._

"That was absolutely pathetic, man." Jason continued, glancing at him. "Everyone was staring at us. At me. Cause you're some kind of freak. Do you know how terrible that made me feel? You absolutely humiliated me out there."

Stiles' hands clenched into fists as Jason talked. _What did Jason know about humiliation? About being so terrified, your body sending you danger signals on something that wasn't even a threat? Having to push your way out of the crowd in an effort just to breathe again? Jason didn't know shit_.

"Shut up, Jason." Stiles told him. "It's not my fault I had a panic attack, I told you I didn't want to go there tonight. It's always way too crowded and loud."

Jason stared at him, squinting his eyes in anger. "Don't you ever tell me to shut up again, you hear me? Don't you ever tell me what to do." He pulled up in front of the house. Stiles pushed on the door handle, and was surprised that it was still locked.

"Let me out," Stiles said, staring wide-eyed at his boyfriend. "I mean it."

"No. Not till we finish our conversation."

"Jason, let me out of the car." Stiles said, his heartbeat raising as he yanked uselessly on the door handle.

"See, that's just rude. Here we were, having a nice little conversation, and the second we arrive at the house, you try and run off like some kind of . . . Lunatic." Jason said, watching Stiles' bottom lip begin to quiver. He knew how terrified and upset Stiles was, the way his fingers drummed against the car door in an erratic beat. Jason grabbed Stiles' arm, and yanked him closer to him.

"Listen to me, you little freak. Don't you dare ever embarrass me in front of my friends again, or I swear to god -"

"You're hurting me."

"I demand an apology," Jason insisted, not loosening his grip. "And it damned well better be good."

"You're _hurting_ me." Stiles repeated, staring at the yellow bruise forming on his pale skin.

"Where's my apology?"

"I'm not gonna apologize to you, dude. I didn't even do anything wrong." Stiles told him, blinking back tears. _Oh, god. Please don't let him see you cry. He'll never let you live it down, Stiles thought. Keep your face neutral. Don't give him the satisfaction of seeing how upset you really are_.

Jason sighed. Long and dramatic, as he released his grip on Stiles' arm. Stiles didn't realize he'd been holding his breath, fearful of Jason's reaction, until he slowly exhaled. With a sudden brutal movement, Jason lashed out, his elbow sinking painfully into the side of Stiles' face. Stiles bit his lip, his mouth filled with coppery blood. Stiles swore, covering his mouth with his hand. He pressed his swollen tongue against his teeth, and felt one of them wiggle slightly.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Stiles shouted, spitting out a gob of blood and spit.

"I asked for an apology. Bitch."

"And I said no-"Stiles started, but Jason held a finger up to Stiles' mouth.

"We're not leaving this car until you do."

Stiles sat, stunned, as he watched his boyfriend stare at him, daring him to challenge his authority. Jason had that dangerous look in his eyes, the look that Stiles was all-too familiar with. The 'do what I say, or I'll make you pay' sort of look.

"Let me out of the car." Stiles said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

"Don't make me ask you again."

Stiles lowered his eyes, stared intently at his lap. His hands were smeared with blood. "I'm sorry," He whispered.

"I didn't quite catch that," Jason told him, mockingly. "Louder."

"I said I'm sorry." Stiles said, struggling to keep his voice from quavering. "For embarrassing you, for making you look bad in front of your friends."

Stiles heard the lock released on his door. _That tiny click, that simple sound that allowed him to once again have freedom_. Stiles pushed open his door, and slid out. The grass was wet under his sneakers from all the recent rainfall, and Stiles was glad that it was dark out. If his neighbours saw him with blood on his hands and face, there would definitely be some difficult questions. Questions that he honestly didn't have any answers for.

"What are you just standing around for?" Jason asked, slamming the car door. "Get your ass inside. Now, Stiles."

"Jason, stop ordering me around. I don't -"

"Move it," Jason told him, putting a hand on the back of Stiles' neck and urging him forward.

Stiles went into the house, and rushed to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him. After taking a leak, Stiles looked in the mirror, baring his teeth to look at the damage. He wet a corner of a washcloth, and started to wash away the blood. Stiles jumped a little, when Jason banged on the door with his fist.

"Hurry up, I need to use the john." Jason said, wiggling the lock. Stiles heard his footsteps recede, then return. Jason popped the lock open with a butter knife, and opened the bathroom door. He glared at him from the doorway, watching Stiles clean the blood off his face and hands.

"That's on you," Jason told him. "I told you to apologize."


	7. Cell phone

"I'm so sorry about last night," Jason told him, as he watched Stiles pour his cereal. He scrubbed his eyes with his hand. "I was so drunk last night, and I wasn't thinking straight. I never meant to hurt you."

Stiles turned away from him. He didn't want to talk to Jason. He didn't want to hear his boyfriend's heartfelt apologies. He could still taste a faint amount of blood from his mouth, and Stiles knew that he wanted to go home.

"I think it's best if I go back to my dad's for a few days." Stiles said. "Think about our relationship, and decide if it's even worth getting back together."

Jason stood up, and walked over to him. Stiles was worried that Jason was going to hurt him again, and he flinched as he watched Jason raise his hands. Jason froze when he saw Stiles draw back.

"I wasn't gonna hurt you," He said, sadly. "I was just gonna give you a hug."

"I don't want your hug." Stiles said, plainly. "I don't want you to touch me, cause I'm afraid you'll hurt me, again."

Jason looked at the floor. "I'm sorry, Stiles." He said. "Please don't go."

"You hit me again, after you promised you wouldn't." Stiles said, slamming the milk jug on the counter. "I had a panic attack last night, and all you cared about was the fact that I embarrassed you. It's clear you don't love me, like I thought you did." Stiles said.

"No, no," Jason said, stepping closer. "Please don't think that. Don't go," Jason repeated, gently putting a hand on Stiles' face and kissing him. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It was a stupid, horrible drunken accident. I never meant to hurt you, Stiles."

Stiles relented. "Okay," He finally said, breaking off the kiss. "I'll stay. But only if you agree to get some help. Have you ever tried anger management?" He asked, grabbing Jason's hand. "Please."

"I'll do anything, babe." Jason whispered, pulling Stiles forward to kiss him again.

Stiles drove his jeep to Beacon Hills. He missed his dad, so he parked at the police station, and walked in. When his dad saw him, he ran over and hugged him.

"Hi," the Sheriff said, his eyes lighting up. "Have you had lunch yet? We could grab some pizza."

"That sounds awesome." Stiles said, grinning. His dad reached out and touched Stiles' cut lip.

"You're hurt," He said, eyebrows raised. "How'd that happen?"

Stiles waved it off. "Bit my lip. It's nothing," he said, looking away. He didn't want his dad to worry about him.

The Sheriff didn't look convinced. "Okay, I'm pretty sure you're lying right now," He said. "And as much as I'd love for you to confide in your old man, pretty sure that's not gonna happen. Let's get something to eat." He said, following Stiles to the parking lot. They drove to the local diner, and ordered a pepperoni pizza, and two cokes.

"Everything good at Jason's? Do you need any more groceries?" the Sheriff asked, as they sat in the booth. "How much oil do you guys have?"

Stiles shook his head. "I pawned my ipod, so we have oil for this month." He said, as he took a bite.

His dad gave Stiles a sympathetic look. "That's a shame about your ipod," He said, knowing how often Stiles used it. He knew his son would miss it. "You didn't need to do that. I would've helped you out."

"Yeah," Stiles said. He knew that. But he felt guilty taking his dad's hard-earned money. He needed to be more independent, and that included paying for his own expenses, whenever possible.

Stiles took a few slices home for Jason, and said goodbye to his dad. He drove home, and heated up the pizza in the microwave on a plate.

"There's pizza here for you," Stiles said. He went into the bedroom, and changed into his pyjamas. He was lying on his stomach, reading through his old text messages, when Jason walked in.

"Who are you texting?" He asked, suspicious. "Where were you all day?"

"I went to see my dad."

"For five hours?" He asked, suspicious.

"I took a drive around Beacon Hills."

"You see anyone else in that town? Maybe an old boyfriend or something?" Jason asked, worriedly. "You weren't cheating on me, were you?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, and ignored him. He opened up his conversation with Scott, and started to type him a message.

"Who are you texting?" Jason demanded. "Show me your phone."

"I'm texting Scott." Stiles told him.

"You know I hate that guy."

"I know you do. But he's my best friend, and I miss him." Stiles said, his fingers tapping on the phone's keyboard.

"I told you to not contact him again," Jason said. "I hate that kid."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Stiles said, glancing up. "He's like my brother."

Jason bent down and tried to take the phone away from him, but Stiles pulled his hand away at the last second.

"Don't touch my phone."Stiles warned him, fiercely. Jason pried the phone out of his hands, and started to read the text messages. He held the phone above Stiles' head, as he tried to take it back.

"Give it back, Jason." He demanded.

Jason glared at him. "You told Scott that I hit you?" He said, full of hatred. "That's none of his business."

"It's true, though," Stiles said. "You did."

Jason threw the cell phone against the bookcase, watching with a certain amount of satisfaction as the screen shattered against the wooden frame. Stiles ran, and picked up the battery, and stuck it back into the phone. He held down the power button, but the phone refused to turn on.

"You asshole!" He yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You shouldn't be telling people I've been hitting you. That's none of Scott's business." Jason said. "I told you to stop texting Scott. And did you listen? No. You deserve everything you got coming to you, loser."

Without his phone, Stiles felt even more isolated than before. He had no way of contacting his dad, or Scott, or any of his friends. He'd never felt more lonely, then when he sat clutching his broken phone and listening to Jason gloat.

"I hate you," Stiles whispered, his head bowed. "You're a horrible person, and I wish I'd never met you."

Jason bent down, and glared at him. "The feeling is mutual."

The next day, Stiles printed off another stack of resumes, and walked around town handing them out to local businesses. Finally, Stiles hit paydirt. The Harrison walmart was looking for an electronics cashier. He submitted his resume, and returned the filled-out application to Customer Service. The manager called Stiles in for an interview that afternoon, and he was hired on the spot.

Stiles called Scott on the payphone, and told him the good news. "Dude, I have a job!" He told him. "It's only for the Christmas season, but it's a start."

Scott was excited for him, as he listened to Stiles ramble on. Now that he didn't have a phone anymore, Stiles and Scott had been forced to email back and forth. That wasn't nearly as fun as being able to text or call, as they were used to.

"That's awesome. I can't wait to visit you," Scott said. "Christmas is in a month. We should do something fun when I get there." They chatted for another ten minutes, before Scott said he had to leave. He had an afternoon class.

Stiles walked into the house, and his gaze was instantly drawn to the empty TV stand. His Xbox was gone, as well as his games, and the two controllers. Stiles started to panic.

"Yo, where the hell is my stuff?" Stiles asked. "Where's my Xbox?"

Jason was sitting on the couch, smoking a joint. He coughed on the thick smoke.

"I sold it." Jason said, like it was no big deal.

"You _what_?" Stiles shouted. "Please be joking. Oh, my God."

"We needed the money. I pawned it off for two hundred bucks. That'll keep the power on, and give us something better to eat than fucking rice and beans."

Stiles felt like he was going to cry. "Dude," He said. "You know how much money I invested in those games? You didn't even ASK me! It wasn't yours to sell!" He shouted, hugging his arms around himself.

"Wow, you're really selfish, aren't you? You'd rather keep your precious games, over keeping the power and heat on? Your priorities are screwed up." Jason said, angrily. "We needed the money."

"I found a job." Stiles said, miserably. His joy at finally managing to land a job was overshadowed by the loss of his games. "I start at the Walmart tomorrow. Electronics cashier."

"Well, good for you." Jason said, sarcastically. He took a drag on his joint, and exhaled. Stiles watched him smoke.

"You spent the money on weed, didn't you? You sold my Xbox and bought a bag of weed." He said, resigned. "That's really low."

Jason refused to look at him, staring out the window as he sucked back on the joint.

"How much money is left?" Stiles asked. "Enough for groceries, at least?"

"I spent fifty bucks." Jason said, quietly. "I bought weed, and a bottle of vodka."

"Give me the rest." Stiles said, sticking his hand out. "I'll go to the store and buy food."

Jason dug into his pocket, and pulled out the wad of bills. He dropped them onto the coffee table, and continued smoking. Stiles called for Rigby, and she excitedly barked, as she followed him to the jeep.


	8. Stiles' Jeep

Stiles pushed open the door with is elbow, his arms full of groceries. He'd just received his first paycheck from Walmart, and he'd stopped at the store to buy some food for dinner. He also got his phone fixed, something he'd been trying to do for weeks. Stiles was surprised to see Jason slouched on the couch, wearing only his plaid boxers. He was playing Halo, and eating Stiles' cheetos. Stiles put the sacks of food on the kitchen counter, and noticed the crusty dishes still in the sink.

"How was job hunting? Any luck?" he asked, hopeful.

Jason paused the game. "I went to a few places, but nobody's hiring. I think Mr. Johnson at the hardware store was lying. Seth said he's looking for part time, but he said he didn't need anyone. Stupid ass."

Stiles nodded. _He always blames everyone else. Nothing can ever be his own fault._ "You didn't do the dishes," Stiles said, sitting down beside him. "I'll make supper if you wash and dry."

Jason's expression changed from annoyed to really angry. "I'm not doing them. That's your job."

Stiles sighed. "I just got off a nine hour shift. My feet are so sore. Just wash a load. I'll do the rest tomorrow. _One load_."

Jason flung the controller against the bookcase. Stiles flinched at the sound. "Next time, I'll be you I throw something at!" Jason warned him, reaching for the TV remote. He looked pissed off. Stiles wondered what had set him off this time. It often didn't take much. An angry word here, a side look there. Most of Jason's outbursts seemed to come out of nowhere. They could be snuggling on the couch, or washing dishes side by side, joking and carrying on. Then, like the flip of a switch, Jason would turn on him. Bringing up old grievances, or finding a new one to fight over.

Stiles hoped that by staying quiet, and out of Jason's line of sight, he could avoid the blowout altogether. He didn't put into account that Jason would get up and follow him into the kitchen. Stiles changed out of his work clothes, and put on his batman pyjamas. He went into the kitchen, opened the cupboard, and started to unpack the bags of food.

"You're being really unreasonable," Stiles said. "You're here all day. Why can't you clean and then play Halo?"

"Well, I see you didn't finish the laundry like I told you to." Jason said, accusingly. "You're not even trying to maintain the household, are you? Stupid Cunt." He said, venomously.

Stiles had to bite hard on his inner cheek, so he wouldn't respond. He kept his eyes down as he scraped bits of food off the plates into the compost container.

Jason stood in the doorway, shaking with anger. "Got any more smart comments, motormouth?" He said, fists clenched at his sides. "This is my house, you get that? I could throw you out without a moment's hesitation. Smarten up, and stop trying to boss me around."

"Are you even listening to me?" Jason asked. "Staring at me with those stupid, vacant brown eyes. Playing the goddamned victim. Nobody's fooled by your act, Stiles." He said, mockingly.

Jason pretended to rub his eyes in a circular motion, with his closed fists. "BooHoo. Poor wittle baby Stiles." Jason laughed, cruelly. "Pathetic."

There were a lot of things that Stiles wanted to say(none of them polite), and he struggled to keep quiet. It was agony. _Do not engage him. Let him run out of steam. Let him tire himself out. It was like waiting for a toddler to stop having a tantrum, except this kid could actually cause bodily harm to Stiles_.

Stiles flinched when Jason flicked him sharply in the ear.

"Can you hear me? _Huh_?" Jason asked. "Are you deaf as well as stupid? I take it you got that from your mom's side of the family. Your dad seems pretty intelligent. I wonder if she was also a cock-hungry slut like her son."

Stiles face burned, as he made eye contact with Jason. "Don't you EVER talk about her that way. Ever." He said, glowering. "You arrogant bitch."

Jason shoved him against the kitchen cupboard, the handle pressing sharply against Stiles' shoulder. He grimaced, as Jason's fingers sqeezed painfully into his flesh. His sour breath on Stiles face, as he leaned in close. "I don't take orders from pussies," He said, releasing him. Stiles rubbed the back of his head.

Jason took a step back, and started to walk away. "That's what you get, you stupid asshole."

"Oh yeah, 'cause you're such a big man, hitting on someone smaller than you!" Stiles shouted, humiliated. "Fuck you, Jason."

Jason turned around, his cold eyes fixed on Stiles. He rushed forward, twisted Stiles' arm behind his back, and pushed him face first into the wall. Stiles hated him for treating him so poorly, but he was too scared to leave.

"Don't," Stiles pleaded, as Jason put a hand on his throat. He squeezed against his windpipe, and Stiles' breathing was cut off with a pained gurgling sound. His face turned bright red, as he struggled to breathe. As soon as he released him, Stiles slumped against the wall, sucking in breath. The oxygen felt so sweet to his deprived lungs, as he gasped frantically.

"You made me do this," Jason snarled, releasing him. "Pathetic Bitch."

Stiles slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. His throat ached, felt bruised. He glared at Jason, watching as his boyfriend opened the fridge, and started to empty out some of the contents. Jason casually started make a sandwich, and sliced an apple into pieces. He walked into the living room, humming under his breath. Stiles waited until he heard the football game on the TV, before standing up.

His first instinct was to lock himself in the bathroom where Jason couldn't get to him. Stiles turned on the taps, and curled up in the tub. His clothes lay scattered on the floor, as he let the water wash over his bruised body. Stiles started to cry, huge embarrassing tears running down his face and onto his chest. _Thank God Jason can't see me like this,_ he thought, as he sunk his body lower under the water until just his face stuck out. Stiles' ears were underwater, making everything dulled. He couldn't hear the stupid football game in the next room, or Jason's loud laughter spilling out of the living room. Just a calm, peaceful bath. His eyes drifted shut, as he soaked his aching muscles. Stiles imagined that he was in the middle of a huge, empty lake completely alone. Just him, under the star-filled sky. The inky water lapped over him, as he imagined staring up at the crescent moon. So far from Harrison.

He must've fallen asleep, because when he woke up, the water was freezing cold. Stiles' fingers were pruned, and his nipples were tiny pebbles against his goose-bumped chest. He started to shiver, sitting up. Stiles drained the water. It spiralled down the drain, and he watched the mini tornado form in front of him. He didn't get out of the tub until the water was completely gone. Stiles grabbed the large beach towel hanging on the hook, and wrapped it around his body. He walked into the bedroom, and changed it a fleecy pair of Batman pyjama pants, and a long-sleeved shirt.

"Hey, come sit down for a sec," Jason called out, patting the empty seat beside him. Stiles cautiously perched on the edge of the cushion.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier, alright?" Jason said. "I should never have hurt you. I was way out of line."

Stiles looked down at his lap, unsure how to respond. "Yeah," he finally said.

"Wanna watch a show?" Jason asked, starting to channel surf. Stiles turned his attention to the show.

"I think we should sell your jeep," Jason said, as they watched TV. He said it so casually, like it was no big deal. Stiles stared at him, surprised.

"I'm not selling my jeep." He finally said. "There's not a chance in hell I'm selling my Jeep."

"We need the money."

"Fuck you, man." Stiles said. "You sold my Xbox, my games, you stole my adderall and traded it for weed. Now you wanna sell me jeep?" Stiles said, angrily.

Jason glared at him. "Yeah, I do." He said, muting the TV. "Your paycheques aren't gonna cut it. It's just a stupid, old jeep. That piece of shit is ancient."

"Sell your car, then. It's pretty new. I'm keeping that jeep." Stiles said. "I don't see why I have to keep losing all my possessions. I noticed you still have your PS3, and your laptop, and your drumset. That's selfish. Why don't you sell those? Or, better yet, get a job. That would solve all our money problems right there. Slacker."

He could see Jason glaring at him, his grey eyes squinting. Stiles' heart skipped a beat, hoping that Jason wouldn't get violent.

"Can you put the sound back on the TV?" Stiles asked, uneasily watching as Jason set the remote on the arm of the couch, and turned to him. "I was watching that."

"I had a job, remember? I used all my money to support us. I bought you presents and took you out to fancy dinners, and everything. I'm not a slacker, you ungrateful bitch." Jason spat.

"Dude, we've been behind on all the bills for ages, and a lot of your paycheques actually went to weed and alcohol." Stiles pointed out. He got up to leave, but Jason grabbed Stiles' arm, and pushed him back onto the couch. Stiles lashed out and hit Jason in the stomach as he struggled to get away. Jason managed to pin him to the couch, as he sat on Stiles' legs.

"Get off me!" Stiles said, as Jason grabbed a handful of his hair, and roughly pulled his head back until Stiles was staring at the cracked plaster on the ceiling.

"You're worthless. I don't know what I ever saw in you, Stilinski." Jason said, as Stiles tried to loosen Jason's grip. "You're broken, Stiles. Something must be wrong with you. You were dropped on your head as baby, weren't you? Why else would you be so goddamned stupid?"

"Get the fuck off me, already!" Stiles shouted, tearing up in pain. It felt like Jason was going to rip his hair out by the roots, and his scalp was on fire. Jason released him, then made a fist, and punched him hard in the stomach. Stiles doubled over, unable to breathe.

_So much for a nice night at home, watching TV and eating dinner_, Stiles thought. He grabbed his hoody, and took the jeep for a ride around town. He rode up and down the quiet, snow-filled streets, before pulling up in front of the bar. When Stiles pushed open the door, he was glad to see Derek behind the counter, wiping down the counter with a bottle of disinfectant. He glanced up when Stiles walked in, and smiled at him. Stiles sat down on a barstool, and rested his cheek in his hand. It was a bit surreal to see the bar so empty.

"You want a beer?" Derek asked.

"I'm not here to drink," Stiles said. "Can I talk to you?"He asked.

"I'm listening." Derek said.

"I need help. I think I want to leave Jason." Stiles blurted out. It was the first time he'd said it out loud, and he was suddenly overwhelmed. Stiles blinked back tears, as Derek walked around the bar and hugged him.

"You're doing the right thing," Derek told him. "He's been hurting you, hasn't he? How long has it been?"

Stiles didn't want to admit to anyone that he was being abused, he could barely admit it to himself.

"Since what?" He asked, feigning ignorance. Derek sighed.

"Stiles," he said. "I'm not blind. I've seen him treat you like crap since you two started coming here." Derek told him. "And he's done this before. You think you're the first?" I can list three other guys off the top of my head that's been treated like shit by him in the last two years. Where'd he find you, anyway? Most of his ex's were older."

"At my friend's house party." Stiles said. "In Beacon Hills."

Derek gave him a surprised look. "You're from Beacon Hills?" He asked. "I used to live there."

"Really?" Stiles said, interested. "Cool."

"He's an abusive asshole. Why don't you just leave him?" Derek asked, as Stiles attempted to steer the conversation in a different, safer topic. Stiles looked at the floor.

"Because it's hard to admit what's going on, and even harder to think of life without him. I do love him, even though he can be a prick sometimes." Stiles said, glancing up at Derek. He'd surprised himself by opening up to the man. He felt comfortable with him, even though he barely knew him.

"It can be hard to admit that some of the people in our lives don't treat us as they should. That our love isn't reciprocated as well as it should be – it feels one-sided."

Stiles nodded, his mouth open slightly. "Exactly." He said. "Half the time, he's so nice and loving, then he gets pissed off, and starts swearing and hitting me." Stiles said, subconsciously reaching for the bruises on his wrist. Derek pulled Stiles' sleeve up, and stared grimly at the fading marks.

Derek let go of Stiles arm, and lifted his chin with his hand. "None of this is your fault."

Stiles wasn't entirely certain, but he felt himself nodding all the same. "Yeah," he said. "I know. I'm scared," Stiles admitted, as he stood up. He started to pace the floor, thinking out loud. "I need to get as far from him as I can. I'm worried he'll try and kill me if I leave." Stiles said.

"You could stay with me, if you want." Derek said.

Stiles gave Derek a confused look. "But I barely even know you." He said.

"Look, I'm not trying to be creepy by asking you to come home with me," Derek said. "I'm just worried that if you go with Jason, he might hurt you again."

"You don't mind?" Stiles asked. Derek shrugged.

"Keeping you safe from Jason is what's important. I can protect you. "Derek said.

"How do you plan on breaking up with him?" Derek asked, concerned.

"I'm not sure yet, I know he probably won't take it easy. He's kind of a sociopath." Stiles said.

"Kind of?" Derek snorted. "Your boyfriend is Class A crazy. " He said.

"Maybe I can tell him here, at the bar. I'd feel a bit safer if we broke up somewhere public. Hopefully, he won't hurt me if we're around other people."

Derek didn't look surprised. "Okay," He said, nodding.

"Stiles, are you aware that you're wearing your pyjamas in the bar?" Derek asked, smiling broadly, as he leaned against the counter. Stiles looked down, and blushed profusely. Stiles had completely forgotten that he was still wearing his fleecy batman pyjamas, and his blue striped hoody.

"Oh, my god," Stiles said, his face burning. "I had a fight with Jason. I left the house like this. Oh, jeez." He said, mortified. "I must look so ridiculous."

Derek shrugged. "Whatever, Batman."

Stiles laughed.

"Can I get a coke, please?" He asked, pulling out a fiver from his wallet. He stayed for another hour, before going back home. Jason was surprisingly calm when Stiles walked in the door. Jason didn't even ask where he'd been.


	9. Stanley

Stiles was stocking the New Release DVDs, when he spotted the back of Derek Hale's head. He recognized him even before the man turned around, and waved at him. Derek walked over to talk to Stiles.

"Hey," He said. "How are you holding up?" He asked, lightly.

"I'm fine," He replied, reaching into the cardboard box beside him. It had been a week since he'd gone to the bar to talk to Derek. A week since he'd decided that he was going to break up with Jason. And he still hadn't done it yet.

"How's Jason?" Derek asked. "Keeping out of trouble?"

Stiles stopped in mid-air, and glanced up at Derek. He wasn't fooled for a second by the pleasant tone Derek had adopted. He scrutinized the older man.

"If you wanna know how many bruises he's inflicted lately, just ask me." Stiles said.

"How many this time?" Derek asked, seriously.

Stiles pulled up his sleeves, and revealed the four purplish bruises on his forearms, from where Jason had grabbed him last night.

Derek reached out, his fingers barely touching Stiles' skin. Afraid to hurt him, afraid to touch him. He pulled out his phone, and photographed both of Stiles' arms.

"I'll add these to the folder of photos we should show the police in the future, when you're ready to make a case against him." Derek said, watching as Stiles carefully pulled his sleeves back down.

They walked to the electronics counter so Stiles could ring in his customers, then he leaned against the counter to talk to Derek.

"Have you decided to leave him yet?" Derek asked, raising his eyebrows.

Stiles shook his head. "I'm kind of . . . having second thoughts" He said, biting his bottom lip. "He threatened to kill Scott, and my dad, if I dumped him. He told me he would shoot Rigby, and put a bullet in my skull."

"That's exactly why you should leave him. Sooner, rather then later. He's a little psychopath, and you need to get as far away from him as you can." Derek persisted. "He could kill you if you stay."

"He could kill me if I leave. The statistics of being assaulted or killed after leaving the abuser rises significantly." Stiles recited from memory. He'd done the research, read the domestic abuse pamphlets Derek had given him.

"I could go with you tomorrow, if you want to collect your stuff. Make sure you're safe." Derek offered. "Make sure you and Rigby are safe."

Stiles gave him a half-cocked smile, and nodded. "Thanks," he said, looking down at the worn countertop.

"No big deal," Derek said, shrugging.

"It is to me. God, you have _no_ idea." Stiles said, his chin quivering involuntarily. The idea of freedom being so tantalizingly close, made Stiles yearn to be safe at his dad's house in Beacon Hills. To be with his friends again. He missed Scotty, and Isaac, and Lydia, and Kira, and Allison. Danny and the twins. Everyone.

He blinked rapidly, trying to keep his emotions from showing. Derek looked at him, like he was fragile. Broken.

"Y'know, I'm here, if you ever wanna . . . talk or whatever."

Stiles lifted his shoulders, and dropped them. "I know," he whispered, fidgeting with his hands against the smooth countertop. Playing an imaginary piano, pretending to be some hotshot Beethoven pianist.

Stiles saw Derek reach out to him from the corner of his eye, and had to concentrate hard to stay still. Not shy away from his touch. He put his hand on Stiles' shoulder. After all, this was Derek, not some complete stranger.

"Stiles," Derek said, looking sadly at him. "Look at me."

Stiles raised his head, his eyes still lowered. Finally, he looked up. Derek had his eyes trained on him.

"Stiles, you don't have to do this alone." He said. "I'm worried for you."

"Can we just drop it?" Stiles asked, feeling guilty. "Nothing I can say will make me feel any better. I literally, walk in terror every day."

He took his hand off Stiles' shoulder. "Well," he said. "You know where to find me."

Stiles woke up screaming. It was his third nightmare in the past week. He sat up in bed, and wiped the cold sweat off his brow. Jason rolled over, and stared blearily at him.

"How can I sleep if you keep screaming?" Jason mumbled into the pillow, barely coherent. "I'm so tired."

Stiles didn't answer him. Couldn't find the words to describe the emotions running through his head. His brain wouldn't let him forget the nauseating images it had conjured. Images of his friends and family, murdered. Scott, lying in a pool of blood. His dad, Melissa, Rigby, Isaac, Lydia, Derek. His mind tortured him. He knew it was most likely a reaction to the amount of stress he'd been under, lately. What with starting a new job, worrying about finances, and his rocky relationship with Jason.

_These images are not real_, he thought_. Nobody's dead_. _They're safe. Alive and well_. He grabbed the blanket, and pulled it over his shivering body. Jason threw an arm around Stiles, and pulled him closer. Stiles listened to Jason's even breathing in the dark.

It was Friday night, and the bar was packed. Stiles and Jason were sitting at their usual table, drinks in hand. Stiles was trying to decide if he should break up with Jason or not. He was mulling over their relationship in his head, trying to ignore the fact that Derek was watching him closely from the bar.

"What are your thoughts on having a threesome?" Jason asked, his eyes lighting up. "Seriously. I know a guy who's interested." He leaned in close to be heard over the loud music.

Stiles choked on his drink. "What?" He asked, wiping his mouth. "That question came out of nowhere."

Jason looked hurt. "It's a common fantasy, dude." He said, grabbing Stiles' hand under the table, and gently rubbing his thumb along Stiles' palm. "So? What are your thoughts?"

"Would you be mad if I said the idea creeps me out?" Stiles said, honestly. _The idea of some stranger sharing the bed with him and Jason filled Stiles with revulsion. He knew that some people were into that, but the idea had never appealed to him. He'd rather be with only one person. He was only interested in monogamous relationships._

"Come on, Stiles!" Jason cajoled, pointing out his friend, Stanley, on the dance floor. "He's a great guy. Have you seen the biceps on him? He's been tested, he's STD free."

"I don't want a threesome." He said, stubbornly. Stiles pulled his hand out of Jason's grasp, and sat back in his seat.

"I'll introduce you guys," Jason said. "Come on!"

"No, Jason. Stop trying to convince me of what a great guy Stanley is, and just drop it already."

"Frigid bitch." Jason told him, crossly. "You haven't even given it a shot."

"Oh, shut up." Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "I made myself very clear. I don't do threesomes. I'm not into that."

"Will you at least meet him?" Jason pleaded, taking a sip of his cooler. "He's a great guy. Really well endowed, I promise."

Stiles stood up. "Knock it off." He said, walking to the bar. He could hear Jason calling after him, but he didn't bother to turn around. He didn't want to talk to him.

"There a problem?" Derek asked, as Stiles sat on one of the barstools. Derek gave Stiles another cooler. "You look pissed."

"It's nothing," Stiles said. "Just pissed at Jason."

"You two have a fight or something?" Derek asked, watching him sympathetically.

"He keeps trying to pressure me into doing something don't want to do. Way out of my comfort level." Stiles said. "He doesn't take no for an answer."

"What does he want you to do?" Derek asked, interested.

Stiles squirmed in his seat. "It's uh, sexual."

"Go on," Derek smirked.

"He wants me to have a threesome with one of his friends. I don't want to." Stiles said. "I said no, but he keeps pushing me."

Derek's smile faltered. "If you're not comfortable with that, make sure you stay your ground," He said, glancing over at Jason. "He's too controlling."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Man, you have _no _idea."

"Did you break up with him yet?" Derek asked.

"Not yet. I'm still deciding what to do." Stiles admitted, looking down at the counter. "I don't want him to hurt anyone else."

A few drinks later, Jason started pestering him again to meet Stanley. Stiles refused. Jason grabbed him by the upper arms, and pulled him close. "You're mine, you get that?" He hissed. "I will share you with whoever I want. I own your ass. And you'll do what I say." He said.

Stiles glared at him. "I'm not property, Jason. Let me go." He said. Jason pushed him away, and stalked outside for a cigarette. Stiles ran a hand through his hair, and turned around. He caught Derek's eye, and his face flushed. _Oh, God! How much had he seen? Judging from the angry expression on the bartender's face, he'd definitely seen Jason treating him like shit._ Derek gestured him over, and Stiles complied.

"You okay?" He asked, gently put a hand on Stiles' arm. Stiles nodded. "I'm fine." He said, embarrassed.

"If he's pushing you to do something you're not comfortable with, he's to blame. Not you." He said, quietly.

Stiles opened the bathroom door, and stepped in. He held his breath, trying not to breathe in the noxious fumes from the dirty urinals, and the stench of vomit. He ran the cold water in the tap, splashing some onto his wrists and hands. His heart was pounding, as he thought about what had just happened on the dance floor. He felt dirty, as he remembered the way his boyfriend of six months had allowed, no, instructed Stanley to grope him while they danced. Stiles could still feel the man's rough hands exploring his body, even as he'd tried to stop him. Jason had held Stiles' hands above his head, grinding into him, as the man had slipped a hand down the front of his jeans. Stiles shivered with revulsion, staring into the cracked mirror. Staring at his own fearful, brown eyes, and his sickly, pale skin. Stiles felt like he was about to keel over.

Between the nauseating smell, and his churning stomach, Stiles knew he was going to need a toilet. Pronto. He rushed into the cubicle, his knees smacking the floor. He retched, emptying his stomach contents into the toilet bowl. When he was done heaving, Stiles wiped his mouth with a piece of paper towel, and returned to the grimy sink. He washed his face. Twice. Then he took a deep breath, and went back outside, into the crowded club.

"What took you so long?" Jason asked him, the cleft in his forehead creased in anger. His arms were crossed in front of him.

"Sorry," Stiles said, still tasting the bile in his mouth.

Jason grabbed Stiles by the arm, and half-dragged back to their table. Stiles winced as he felt his boyfriend's fingers dig into his upper arm. Jason pushed him into the chair, and set a drink in front of him.

"Drink." Jason commanded, staring him down.

Stiles shook his head. "Man, I don't feel so good. I wanna go home." The room spun around him. He wished he'd stayed home, instead of going out to party.

"You're fine, now drink." He insisted, pushing the drink into Stiles' hands. "We leave when I say we leave."

Stiles took a few small sips, but that was all he could manage. He turned his head away, watching the crowd gyrate on the dance floor.

"More," Jason insisted, lifting the drink to Stiles' lips. He took a gulp, then another. He quickly drained half the glass. Stiles retched, and puked. Some of it landed on Jason's sneakers.

"Goddammit!"Jason slammed the drink down on the table, splashing some of it onto the coaster. Jason grabbed Stiles by the front of his shirt, and pulled him close. He could see the glinting, pale grey eyes an inch away from his face.

"You'll pay for that," Jason hissed. "You wait 'til we get outta here."

Derek walked over with a roll of paper towel, and started to mop up the mess. Stiles sat, watching him, feeling too ill to stand up. He didn't trust his feet to hold him up.

"Hey, maybe you should lay off the booze, huh?" Derek said, looking up at Stiles. He nodded, miserably. The bartender glanced back at Jason, who was dabbing at his shoes with a wad of paper towel from the men's room.

"Jason is definitely a dick," He said, eyeing Stiles critically. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"

Stiles shook his head. "No." He said, in a small voice.

"Look, my shift is almost over. I can drive you to my house if you want." Derek said, watching Stiles carefully. "Or take you back to Beacon Hills. You got family out there?"

"My dad's the Sheriff."

Derek glanced back, and saw that Jason was staring at him and Stiles intently.

"Stiles, give me a few minutes. I need to grab my jacket, then I'm taking you home." Derek said. He finished cleaning up the floor, and walked back to the supply closet to throw away the soiled paper.

"What were you two talking about?" Jason asked him, angrily. "What'd you say to him?"

"Nothing." Stiles said. "He was just cleaning up."

"No, I saw you talking to him."

Stiles took a deep breath. "I'm breaking up with you." He said, cringing as Jason stared at him. "You're abusive, and I can't be with you anymore. We're through."

"You're in love with that – that skanky bartender, aren't you?" Jason said, pulling him to his feet. Stiles panicked, and scanned the room for Derek, but he couldn't find him. Jason forced Stiles outside. The fresh air felt good on Stiles' over-heated skin. He started to shiver, as his sweat turned cold. They went around the corner, away from the line-up of people waiting to get in. Jason pushed him against the brick building, holding him in place.

"Jason, stop." He said, pushing away. Jason slapped him. Stiles' cheek burned, as he stared angrily at the leaf-strewn pavement. _He hated when Jason got like this, hated how he took his aggression out on him. _Jason slapped him again, then grabbed Stiles and roughly shoved him against the wall.

"You think you can just break up with me?" Jason spat. "You aren't going anywhere, Stiles. If you try to leave me, I won't hesitate to kill you. Then I'm going after your dad, and Scott."

Stiles tried again to push him away, unsuccessfully. "Dude, just stop. Let me go." Stiles said. He was scared, the cold sweat dripping down his back. Stiles looked around for help, but they were completely alone. The pounding of the music matched his frantic heart. Stiles tried to pry Jason's grip off his arm.

His heart leapt in his throat, as Jason made a fist and punched him in the stomach. "That's for breaking my heart." Jason said, hitting him in the side. "And that's for wrecking my shoes, you stupid bastard. Couldn't hold your liquor if your life depended on it."

Jason wrapped his hands around Stiles' throat. He couldn't breathe, his lungs burning. Stiles' hands clawed at Jason's chest and face, as he fought for air. Tiny black pinpricks covered his vision, and Stiles felt like he was about to pass out.

"You deserve it, you piece of shit." Jason told him.

"HEY!" Derek shouted, as he rounded the corner. He saw Jason, with one hand around Stiles' throat. Jason raised his hand, about to hit Stiles. Derek ran at him, and pushed Jason onto the wet pavement. Stiles slid down the wall, wheezing and gasping for breath. Derek stood protectively over Stiles, as Jason scrambled to his feet.

"You have till the count of five, before I kick your ass," Derek growled, watching Jason glare at him. "I'm calling the cops!" He shouted, watching as Jason took off.


	10. Home again

"Are you okay?" Derek asked, bending down to talk to Stiles.

"Yeah," Stiles whispered, his voice hoarse. Stiles was sitting in the snow, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was desperately gasping for air, his eyes closed.

"Stiles, look at me." Derek said, touching his arm.

Stiles opened his eyes, staring wide-eyed up at him. Stiles flinched when Derek reached for his neck, trying to get a better look at the marks on his neck.

"He's gone. Jason's gone. You're gonna be okay." Derek said quietly, trying to comfort him.

Derek pulled out his cell phone, and called the police. As soon as he hung up, Derek sat down beside Stiles, his back against the brick wall.

"My dad," Stiles croaked, reaching for Derek's phone.

Derek handed him the phone, and watched as Stiles shakily punched in the number. He handed it back, and Derek listened as it rang. The Sheriff picked up on the third ring, his voice groggy from sleep.

"Who is this? This better be important, it's two in the morning." The Sheriff said, grumpily.

"Sir? I'm a friend of Stiles." Derek said, running a hand through his hair. "Can you come to Harrison? There's been an incident between him and Jason, Stiles got hurt."

"WHAT?" The Sheriff shouted. "What's happened? Put Stiles on the phone!" He said, agitated. "Is he okay?"

"He can't talk right now. Jason tried to choke him. The police are on their way. Just get over here as fast as you can." Derek said, giving him the address.

He hung up, and stuck the phone back in his pocket. Derek gently put his arms around his friend. Stiles was shaking, as he leaned against Derek's side. Some of the people from the smoking area had heard Derek shouting, and were starting to crowd around them.

"Dude, what happened? Is he okay?" A guy asked, leaning down to get a closer look at the marks on Stiles' neck. "Who did this?"

"Please, give us some space," Derek glared at him, until the man finally backed up.

Stiles felt deeply relieved that Derek was with him. He started to cry, turned his face away from the crowd, and put his cheek against Derek's chest. He could feel Derek tighten his grip around him, as they listened to the distant whine of the police sirens.

Sheriff Stilinski parked his vehicle behind the police cars, and jumped out. He ran across the icy road, nearly slipping.

"Where's my son? Where's Stiles?" He shouted, scanning the crowd. He was terrified, until he finally set his eyes on Stiles. He was sitting in the back of the warm police car, watching Derek talk to one of the deputies. The Sheriff opened the car door, and knelt down beside his son.

"Stiles what happened? Are you okay?" He asked, pulling him into a hug. One of the deputies had wrapped a wool blanket around Stiles' shoulders. He was still trembling, though not from the cold.

Derek walked over to the Sheriff, and introduced himself. "I'm Derek, I'm a bartender. Stiles is a friend of mine, he's been going to the bar with Jason for a few months now. I'm the one that called you." Derek explained.

"You realize he's underage, right? Stiles is only eighteen." The Sheriff said, rubbing Stiles' back as they hugged. "He shouldn't even be in the bar at all."

Derek was surprised to find out that Stiles was only eighteen. "Really? His ID said he was twenty-two. It looked legitimate."

The Sheriff gave a small laugh. "My son has a way of bending the law when it comes to certain things. I don't know where he got that ID from, but trust me, it's fake. He's only just graduated from high school a few months ago."

Stiles gave an apologetic look to Derek, over his dad's shoulder. "Sorry," He whispered.

One of the officers walked up to Sheriff Stilinski. "Sir, we went to Jason Brightley's house. He's not there. We've sent cars out, see if they can bring him in." He said, worriedly.

"Yeah, well, we need to find that son of a bitch." The Sheriff said, bitterly. "That asshole needs to be thrown in jail for hurting my boy."

"Yes sir," The officer said. "But in the meantime, we need you to bring Stiles here to the police station. He needs to have his injuries photographed, and write up a statement if we're going to proceed with charging Mr. Brightley. You _are_ going to be laying charges, am I correct Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah," He said, his voice still raspy. "I am."

When they were done at the police station, the Sheriff drove his son to the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He wanted Stiles to get checked out by the doctor. They ran into Melissa McCall, Scott's mom, in the hallway. She took one look at Stiles, and put a hand to her face in shock.

"Oh, my God! Stiles, honey, are you okay?" Melissa asked, shocked.

Stiles nodded, his eyes on the floor.

"Hi, Melissa." The Sheriff said.

"Who did this to you?" She asked Stiles.

"You remember Jason, right? Turns out he's not as nice as I originally thought he was," The Sheriff told her. "Stiles is pressing charges against him. The police are out looking for him right now."

As soon as Stiles got to his dad's house, he went straight to his old bedroom. He kicked off his sneakers, and collapsed on his bed. It had been such a crazy long day, all he could think about was sleeping. He pulled the blanket over his head, and fell deep asleep.

_. . .Stiles inhaled, and got a whiff of Old Spice aftershave, the same brand that Jason used. His heart leapt in his throat, and he knew. Somehow, he knew. Jason was waiting for him._

"_Hello, Stiles." Jason's voice whispered out of the dark. He pulled out a knife, and pressed it against Stiles' neck. "We need to talk," He said, sliding the knife along Stile's skin. Not enough to cut him, just enough to feel the edg of the sharp blade against his skin. Enough to genuinely freak him out. _

"_So, you thought you could just leave me, huh? You're mine. That low-life scum will get it for stealing you from me." Jason hissed in Stiles' ear. "You think I would let you leave me in one piece?" _

_Stiles tried to fight him off, as Jason leaned close, and whispered in his ear. "I've already killed your dad. You wanna see my handiwork?" He said, dragging Stiles to the hallway. _

_Stiles started to cry when he saw his dad lying on the floor, blood bubbling up in his mouth. There was no mistaking the knife sticking out of his dad's chest. His dad's eyes were open, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He was dead._

"_I've killed Rigby, too." Jason said, laughing like he'd said the funniest joke. "I shot her. She's downstairs. Wanna see?" Stiles shook his head._

_Stiles let out a sob when he felt Jason's hands on his neck again. . ._

Stiles woke up screaming, clutching at his throat. He could feel Jason's phantom hands still trying to cut off his air supply, as he thrashed on the bed. His dad ran to his side, and wrapped his arms around him.

"Stiles, wake up!" He shouted, as Stiles tried to break free. "It's just a nightmare."

" . . . Dad?" He said, confused. Stiles stopped struggling, as he looked around his bedroom. It was the middle of the day, his room was full of light from the open blinds.

"You're home, remember?" His dad said, slowly letting go of Stiles. "You're okay."

"Jason was here!" Stiles said, his eyes darting around the bedroom. "_He was here_!"

"No, son. They caught him two hours ago. He was hiding out at his friend's house. He's in police custody." His dad said, hugging him.

"He killed you, and Rigby. He tried to kill me." Stiles whispered, the nightmare still fresh in his mind. "Dad! I forgot about Rigby! She's all alone at the house." He said, turning to look at his dad.

"We'll go pick her up, don't worry." His dad said, reassuring. "I'm taking you down there today to pick up your stuff. You're moving back in with me for the time being."

"I'm going to take a shower," his dad told him. "Then what say we hit the road, and pick up your stuff? Sounds good?"

Stiles nodded, as he got out of bed. He went downstairs, and ate a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table as he waited for his dad to finish getting ready. It was strange being in his dad's house, to be in such familiar surroundings. He'd only moved out three months ago, but it felt like an eternity. He'd grown up in that house, spent his whole life in Beacon Hills. And he'd almost got himself killed when he left to be with Jason on a whim.

When his dad came downstairs, he grabbed his keys and his jacket. "Let's go." He said. They drove back to Harrison, and parked in front of Jason's house. Stiles went into the bedroom, and started to fill his duffel bag with his clothes.

"Come on, Rigby." Stiles said, as he dragged his bags outside. Rigby followed beside him, barking excitedly. Stiles opened the car door, and waited as the dog jumped up onto the seat. He lifted his bags, and set them beside her.

"Can we stop by the bar? I wanna talk to Derek." Stiles said. The Sheriff looked at him, surprised.

"Sure, we can drop by." He said. Stiles got into the driver's seat of his jeep, and buckled his seatbelt. He was glad to see Jason's house in the rearview window as they drove off.


	11. Hot chocolate

Stiles opened the door, and walked into the bar like he'd done dozens of times since moving to Harrison. Derek was there, as always. His face lit up when he saw Stiles. He resembled a bouncer more then a bartender. There were a few guys playing pool, and one of them nodded at Stiles in recognition as he walked past.

"Hey, how are you?" Derek asked, as Stiles took his usual seat at the bar.

"Been better," Stiles joked_. His neck was still really sore, and his voice was a bit raspy. But he felt better. Knowing that Jason was in police custody, that he couldn't hurt him anymore took a great burden off Stiles'mind. He was back home, with his dad. Rigby was safe. Everything would be okay._

"I want to thank you," Stiles said, looking up at Derek. "I mean it. I could have died yesterday, thanks to my own stupidity. It was _you_ that convinced me to leave him."

Derek shook his head. "You're not stupid, Stiles. Don't ever let anyone try and convince you otherwise. You made a mistake by trusting the wrong person. Jason is a creep. And let me remind you, that it was you who finally made the decision to leave him. You stood up against him. That takes guts. I'm proud of you."

Stiles smiled at him. "Ten points to Slytherin," he joked. "Thanks, Dumbledore."

Derek frowned at him. "I'm not just making some stupid speech I mean it." He said, pouring a glass of coke. Derek handed it to Stiles, and sat down beside him.

"What, no beer?" He asked, giving Derek an impish grin.

"Now that I know you're underage, there's no way I'm giving you alcohol. Technically, I should kick you out of the bar altogether." Derek said, leaning against the counter. "But, I'm not gonna do that."

"Coke it is." Stiles said, taking a sip.

"So, what are you going to do now?" He asked, curious. "Are you staying in Harrison, or going back home?"

"Home." Stiles said. "My dad came with me to Jason's house already. We packed up all my stuff, and he drove home already. I told him I'd be home later, after I went to see you first."

"Is this the last time you'll ever set foot in Harrison?" Derek asked him. "I'll miss talking to you during my shifts."

Stiles smirked. "Even though you know I'm not old enough to drink?" He asked, pointedly taking a swig of his coke.

"I'll still miss you." Derek said. "Although looking back, I should've known you weren't old enough. You are pretty scrawny."

Stiles laughed. "Not everyone can have the physique of Hercules," He said, eyeing Derek's body with a tinge of envy.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Hercules," He said, snorting. "I'm laughing on the inside."

Stiles drove home, thinking over his conversation with Derek. He was having mixed feelings about the fact that he'd probably never see him again_. Relieved that he was no longer with Jason, but sad that he was leaving Derek behind as well. He was hoping to never set foot in that fucking town ever again, if he could help it._ He parked the jeep in the driveway, and went inside.

"Hey, Rigby," Stiles said, as he securely locked the door, and pulled the chain across. Even though Stiles knew that Jason was in custody, he wanted to keep the doors locked. Just to feel safer. Peace of mind.

Stiles went up to his bedroom, and started to distract himself by transforming his room into its former glory. Posters pinned to the wall, his multitude of plaid shirts and t-shirts hanging in the closet, books on the shelf. He threw his sheets and blanket in the wash, and booted up his laptop.

Stiles was glad to see that Scott was online, and he Skyped him.

"Hey, Scotty. You still coming home for Christmas break, right? I need to talk to you." Stiles asked, as his best friend's face came on the screen.

"Two more days, dude. What's going on? Mom called this morning, said you were in the hospital. Sounded serious." Scott said, looking concerned. "What's up?"

"Long story short, I broke up with Jason, and he attacked me. He got arrested." Stiles said. "I've moved back to Beacon Hills."

Stiles showed him the marks on his neck, then pulled his shirt up to reveal the mixture of fresh and older bruises on his chest. "Are you okay?" Scott asked, leaning closer to the screen. Scott winced. "That looks really bad, dude."

"Everyone keeps asking me that. I'm fine. Terrified, but I'll be all right. My nightmares haven't really subsided, though." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Hopefully that will go away after a while."

"What did you dream about?" Scott asked him. Stiles told him about the dream he'd had, his stomach twisting as he recounted the horror of seeing his dead father. "Trust me, that is one experience I _never_ want to live through again." He said, shuddering.

"Are you and your dad going to have a turkey dinner this year? My mom said to ask you guys. Isaac's got a friend or two coming over for Christmas dinner, She was hoping you two would like to join us." Scott said.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, probably. I'll have to ask dad first."He said. "I don't know what his plans are this year."

Stiles checked his email, then went downstairs to find his dad.

"Hey, what's up?" His dad asked, sticking his pen behind his ear. He had a stack of paperwork in front of him.

"Melissa and Scott want to know what we're doing for Christmas dinner. Are we going to their house?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah, sure. That sounds good," he said, giving Stiles a grin. "I'll give her a call when I'm done."

"I'm going out for a walk," Stiles told him. "I'll be back in a bit."

His dad nodded. "Bring your cell phone. Call me if you want me to pick you up for any reason." He said. "Be safe."

Stiles grabbed the dog's leash, and called for Rigby. They went outside, and walked through the slushy snow to the dog park. He watched with pleasure, as Rigby chased after the tennis ball. The sky was completely grey, it felt like there would be more snow soon. His fingers and toes were starting to get frozen, and Stiles was about to start heading home, when he spotted Derek walking up the path.

"Hey," Derek said, his pockets buried in his leather jacket. He leaned down to pet Rigby on the head, and took the spit-covered ball out of her mouth. Derek threw it across the field, and turned to Stiles.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked him. "How did you know where I'd be?"

"Called your dad to ask how you were doing. He said you took Rigby to the park. Figured I'd drop by." Derek said, shrugging.

Stiles was glad to see him. "Thanks," He said, off-handedly. "Scott's coming home in two days."

"Where is he?" Derek asked.

"University." Stiles told him. "He's a first year."

"Nice." Derek said, watching Rigby run back towards them.

"Not working tonight?" Stiles asked, surprised.

"Took the night off." Derek said.

"You got plans for Christmas?" Stiles asked. "Do you do the whole family dinner thing?"

Derek shook his head. "Not really. Usually, I just make a roast chicken, and watch holiday specials on TV." He said. "Sometimes I spice it up, and buy a case of beer."

"Sounds lonely." Stiles commented.

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, I guess." He said. "What about you and your dad?"

"Normally, we do the whole turkey dinner thing, and watch Scrooge on TV. Kind of like you, minus the beer." He said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "We're going to Scott's this year. His mom invited us for dinner, some of my friends are bringing people over."

"Sounds nice." Derek said, wistfully. "I wish my mom was still alive, she made the most fantastic stuffing."

"You could drop by, if you wanted." Stiles suggested, smiling up at him. "Grab some turkey and pie, sing a few carols."

"Oh, I'm not singing." Derek laughed. "That's not a very good idea."

"You suck at it?" Stiles laughed. "Let's hear something."

Derek tilted his head to the side, and grinned broadly. He started to hum the tune to MCR's Kill all your friends. "_Well you can hide a lot about yourself, but honey, what're you gonna do? And you can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain't through with you._" He sang, slightly off-key.

Stiles winced. "Sorry, man." He said. "Don't quit being a bartender, all right? I don't think you'd cut it on the radio or anything. Interesting song choice, though."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. It was on the radio earlier." He sat down on the bench, and patted Rigby. The dog seemed to take a liking to Derek, as she sat down in front of him, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

"I'll drive you guys home, if you want," Derek offered. The snow was falling in thick, wet flakes. They covered Stile's hoody in a white film, as he drew back his arm, and tossed the ball across the field.

"Yeah, sure." Stiles said, perking up. "Know what sounds good right now? Hot chocolate."

Derek drove them downtown, and parked outside the coffee shop. "Sorry, Rigby," He said, slamming the car door as she tried to follow them into the coffee shop. "We'll be back in a few."

They went inside, and ordered two large hot chocolates, and a box of donuts. Derek followed Stiles to the table beside the window, so they could watch the snow falling.

Stiles took a sip of his drink. "Thanks," he said. "Oh, it's so warm! My fingers were frozen."

Derek reached into the box, and pulled out an apple cruller. "Yeah," He agreed, sitting back in his seat.

Stiles took the lid off his drink, and ripped off a section of his donut. He dipped it in the hot chocolate, and watched as it soaked up the liquid. Stiles brought it to his mouth, and bit off a chunk. Derek watched him, amused.

"That looks gross," He said, grabbing his napkin and wiping the droplets of hot chocolate off the tabletop.

"Have you ever tried it?" Stiles challenged him. "It's the greatest thing ever."

Derek took the lid off, and dunked his cruller. Some of the hot liquid splashed onto his hand.

"Son of a bitch!" Derek swore, bringing his hand to his mouth. He sucked the burnt skin, as he listened to Stiles laugh. The elderly couple at the next table frowned at Derek, and he waved his free hand. "Sorry, ma'am, sir." Derek said, apologetically.

"Don't _dunk_ it! Dip it carefully, Derek." Stiles said, grabbing the cruller out of Derek's hand. He dipped it, and held it up to Derek's mouth. He opened his mouth, and took the piece of donut out of Stiles' hand.

"It's good, right?" Stiles asked, expectantly. Derek nodded, chewing.

"Yeah, it tastes good." He said. "Surprisingly."

"Poor Rigby, she's probably cold." Stiles said, staring out the window. He could see the puppy barking and scratching at the car window.

Derek gathered up the garbage, and threw it into the trash. "We should get going. I'll drop you off at your house on my way out of town."


	12. Christmas Dinner

Stiles was on his laptop, playing an online game when there was a persistent knocking on his bedroom door.

"Dad! Come in!" Stiles said, not looking up from the screen. The knocking didn't stop. Stiles paused the game, and threw his headset onto his desk in annoyance.

"What?" He said, throwing open the door. Scott stood in the hallway, beaming at him.

"Hey," Scott said, with a dimpled smile.

"You're back!" Stiles said, as Scott threw his arms around him. "Thank god!"

Scott sat on Stiles' bed, and watched as his best friend paced around the room.

"What happened between you and Jason?" He asked. "Tell me."

"Well, at first, he was really great. A sweet boyfriend, if a bit possessive." Stiles said. "Then, not so sweet. He slapped me."

Scott's eyebrows raised. "I thought you were going to call me, if anything happened."

"I know. Sorry. He apologized, said he felt horrible, it would never happen again. Yada yada." Stiles said. "But he didn't stop. I even tried to text you at one point, but Jason broke my phone."

Scott shook his head in disbelief. "Dude," He said.

"I finally decided to break up with him. It sucks though, cause he got really pissed off and kind of . . . tried to choke me." Stiles said, looking away from Scott. "Thankfully, my friend Derek stepped in and pushed him off. He works at the bar."

"I'm glad you're not with him anymore," Scott said. "He's bad news. I don't think Jason would've stopped hurting you until you were in the morgue."

"Well, just like my dad would say," Stiles said, gnawing anxiously on his thumbnail. "Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern."

"Yeah, and his behaviour definitely fits as a pattern. He hurt you repeatedly, then apologized and appeared to feel bad. Then he'd turn around and hurt you again." Scott said.

"I know. Jeez, I feel like an idiot. I had warnings and red flags popping up like crazy. And I chose to ignore my gut feeling, because I loved him." Stiles said, flopping down on his bed. "If I ever date anyone like that again, I give you permission to punch me in the face. Save me from my own poor judgement."

Scott laughed. "I'm not gonna punch you in the face. You look like crap enough as it is," he said. "Don't be so hard on yourself. We'll get through this."

Stiles called Derek and asked him if he wanted to go Christmas shopping. He had to buy a present for Melissa, and Scott. He'd already gotten his dad's present earlier that day. Stiles wanted to get something for Derek, though he didn't know what that would be, yet.

Derek met him in the food court, and they walked to the CD store. Christmas music played loudly on the speakers, and Stiles started to hum along to the lively song.

"You are coming over, right?" Stiles asked him, as they walked through the crowded store. "Melissa said we're having turkey dinner tomorrow at six o'clock."

"I'll be there," Derek said, firmly. He started to flip through the CDs, reading the back of the albums. "What should I bring? Should I make some salad or something? Do you guys drink wine?"

Stiles grinned at him. "I don't, but my dad and Melissa would probably love you for it. Hey, while you're buying alcohol, can you buy a few coolers for me, Scott and Isaac? We'd love you forever." He said, hopeful.

Derek frowned. "No."

"Awww, come on! It's the holidays. We wanna party, too." Stiles begged, sticking out his lower lip, and giving his best puppy dog eyes. Derek rolled his eyes, and kept walking.

"Don't give me that pouty look, Stiles. I'm not buying you alcohol. You're dad is the Sheriff. I don't want to get in his books as the guy who let his kid get drunk on a regular basis."

Stiles gave him a sarcastic look, as he reared his head back. "Pretty sure my dad won't care about a few coolers. He's so grateful that you helped me get away from Jason."

"Still," Derek said, eyebrows raised. "I think I'll just buy the wine_. No coolers_." He said, as Stiles opened his mouth to object. Stiles watched Derek carefully as they looked through the merchandise. He wanted to know more about Derek's interests, as he scrutinized everything Derek looked at. Stiles noticed when Derek walked over to the headphones, and slipped on a pair of over the ear black headphones. He jacked up the volume, and started to bob his head as he listened to the demo CD.

Stiles made a mental note to return to the store before closing, and buy Derek a pair. It would be the perfect Christmas present.

Stiles tucked in his shirt, and looked through his dresser for a tie. He chose a red one, and walked down the hall to the bathroom mirror.

"Hey, you all ready?" His dad asked, as he watched Stiles put on his tie.

"Yep," Stiles said, running a comb through his hair. He grabbed the bag of gifts off his bed, and went to the car.

Scott opened the door, excitedly ushering them in. "Hey, guys!" He said, taking the bags of pickles, buns and cranberry sauce from the Sheriff. Scott brought the food into the kitchen, and placed them on the table.

"Mom, Stiles and his dad are here!" He told her, as she took the turkey out of the oven. Melissa smiled at the Sheriff, as he offered to carve the turkey.

"There's chips and pop in the living room. Help yourself." Melissa told Stiles, as he left to find his friends. The house smelled amazing, of turkey and pumpkin pie. Tiny Christmas lights were strung up along the hallway, and there was a large Christmas tree reaching nearly to the celing. He bent down to put the presents under the tree, noting a few of them even had his name on them. Probably from Scott or his dad, he thought, excitedly. He grabbed a can of pepsi, and sat down beside Isaac and his friends.

"I thought your friend Derek was coming," Scott said, surprised. "He changed his mind?"

"He texted to say he'd be a few minutes late." Stiles said. By the time everyone was seated, Derek had texted to say he was nearly at the house. Stiles waited by the living room window, watching for Derek's car. As soon as he pulled up, Stiles opened the door.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS DEREK!" Stiles shouted, waving at Derek. He was feeling overly energetic from the three sodas he'd downed, as he watched his friend park his car. Derek bit his lip to keep from laughing, as he carried the wine and coolers in his arms.

"I got you some coolers," Derek said, placing the box in Stiles' arms. "Don't get too drunk."

Stiles laughed. "Thanks, dude." He said, grinning. They went into the dining room, and sat down for turkey dinner.

"So, you're Derek," Melissa said, passing him the bowl of sweet potatoes. "It's nice to meet you. Stiles told us all about you."

Later that night, the adults sat at the table, drinking and playing cards. Scott, Isaac and Stiles were sitting on the couch watching the Christmas cartoons on TV. Scott nudged Stiles in the arm, as they drunk their coolers.

"What?" He asked.

"Look where Derek is standing." Scott whispered, glancing over. Derek was leaning against the doorway, directly under the sprig of mistletoe.

Scott leaned close to Stiles. "Go give him a kiss, he's under the mistletoe." He whispered. Stiles laughed. He stood up, and walked over to Derek's side. "Enjoying the party?" He asked.

Derek nodded. "Yeah." He smiled. "It's pretty awesome. Thanks for the headphones, by the way. They are so cool."

Stiles went up on his toes, and kissed Derek on the cheek. Derek's eyes widened, as he stared in surprise at Stiles.

"You're standing under mistletoe," Stiles explained. Derek looked up, and started laughing.

"I didn't even notice. Oh, man." He said, smirking.

Derek leaned down, and kissed Stiles. "Merry Christmas," He said, quietly. Stiles smiled at him. "You too."


	13. Community service

"Stiles, we need to talk," the Sheriff said, walking into his son's bedroom, and crossing his arms in front of his chest. It was the end of December, and the weather had taken a turn for the worst. Stiles' window shook in the windstorm, beside his desk. Stiles shivered, and took off his headphones. His dad sounded upset, and he wondered what had angered him.

"What's up?" Stiles asked, pushing away from his desk. He watched his dad carefully, the way his dad's jaw clenched as he took a deep breath.

"It's about Jason. I just got off the phone with the Harrison police station. He's not getting jail time. He was released from custody this morning." His dad said, running a hand through his thinning hair. "They've assigned him a hundred hours of community service."

Stiles stood up. "Really? That's it, just community service?" He asked, surprised. "Not even a few months in jail?" Stiles tried to keep the tremor from his voice, revealing how upset he really felt. "This sucks."

"I'm sorry." His dad said. "You should get a restraining order against him. I don't want that bastard anywhere near you, again. I can take you down to the courthouse today."

Stiles nodded. "Okay," He said.

They drove to the courthouse, and his dad went with Stiles to talk to the judge. Stiles brought a photo of Jason, one that he'd posted on his facebook back when they'd first started dating. He also had the pictures Derek had taken on his phone, pictures of his injuries. His dad had told him to write down everything that had happened between him and Jason.

When they were done, the Sheriff took his son out for coffee. They snagged a booth at the back, and ordered two coffees, and two egg sandwiches.

"How you holding up?" The Sheriff asked, watching Stiles stir his coffee with his spoon.

"I'm good." He said, staring intently at his drink. _Stiles' stomach roiled, and he didn't want to risk eating anything in case he had to throw up_.

"Are you worried about Jason? If he comes anywhere near you, Stiles, you call me." His dad said, picking up his sandwich. "If he so much as talks to you, I'll arrest that son of a bitch."

"Yeah, dad." Stiles said. "I know. I'll call you."

"You gotta keep your cell phone on you at all times." The Sheriff said, dumping a packet of sugar into his coffee, and swirling it around with his spoon.

"Okay." Stiles dropped his spoon onto his napkin, and took a sip of his coffee.

Stiles called Derek as soon as he got back home. "Dude, Jason's not in police custody anymore." He said, as soon as Derek picked up the phone.

"What?" Derek sounded surprised. "Why?"

"My dad told me. We already went to get a restraining order, my dad's worried he'll go after me."

"Stiles," Derek said, brushing the snow off his car. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles said. _He didn't feel okay. Stiles could feel his anxiety start to rise, as he thought about Jason being out there, somewhere. He'd felt safer when he knew Jason was behind bars, when he believed that his ex was headed to jail._

"Look, I have to work tonight. I'm just heading out the door. If you want to come over to my place tomorrow, I have the day off. We could watch a movie or something." Derek suggested.

"Okay," Stiles said, perking up. "That sounds good."

As soon as Derek hung up, Stiles went online and emailed Scott and Isaac to warn them that Jason was out of police custody. Just in case Jason had any ideas about going after his friends, Stiles wanted to give them a heads up.

The next day, Stiles drove out to Harrison. He met Derek at the bar, and they walked to Derek's apartment building. Stiles had insisted on leaving his jeep parked outside of the bar, instead of Derek's place. Just in case Jason or one of his ex's friends spotted the vehicle at Derek's. He didn't want Jason to know where Derek lived, on the off chance that he was following or watching them.

Derek's apartment was nice. A bit sparse, but nice. He took off his shoes, and sat down on the couch. Stiles took in the piles of books stacked against the far wall, and he raised his eyebrows at Derek.

"Those are on my TBR list." Derek said, smiling.

"TBR?"

"To Be Read." He explained. "I work at the bar alot. Quite often, I get called in on my days off. One day, I'll finish off those books."

Stiles sat down on the couch, and smiled when Derek grabbed the remote and sat down beside him. He passed the remote to Stiles, and put his arm around him.

"You pick." He said.

"Any preferences?" Stiles asked, flipping through the channels.

"Nope. I'll watch anything." Derek said.

He finally settled on a scifi film, and curled up on the couch beside Derek. Halfway through the film, someone in the parking lot started to honk their horn repeatedly. Derek paused the movie, and rolled his eyes at the loud noise coming from right outside his window. The sound had startled both of them.

"Sorry," Derek apologized. "Some of my neighbours are annoying assholes. They don't care if they're making a crap load of noise this late at night."

The living room was suddenly filled with blinding light. Stiles squinted, realizing someone had their highbeams trained on the window. He stood up, and went to the window.

Stiles peered through the blinds, as the driver killed the lights. He waited for his eyes to adjust, and froze when he saw the black Honda Accord. There was no mistaking that car. Jason was sitting in the vehicle, watching Derek's house. Stiles flinched. He quickly backed up, and nearly ran into Derek.

"What's going on? Who's car is that?" Derek asked, noting the panicky look in Stiles' eyes.

"He's outside the house," Stiles whispered, grabbing Derek's arm. "Oh, God. Jason's here. How did he even know where I was?"

_What if Jason came in? What if he wanted to hurt him or Derek? He was putting Derek's life in danger, just by being here_. "I – I think I need to go," Stiles said. "I'll go back to Beacon Hills."

Derek grabbed his jacket, and started to walk to the balcony. "I'm going out there," He said, starting to slide open the glass door.

Stiles looked at him, fearfully. "Don't." He said, shivering as the cold air drifted in.

"He has no right to follow you around like this. I'm not intimidated by him." Derek said, standing on the porch, and staring at the vehicle.

"HEY! JASON!" Derek shouted, glaring at the black car. "YOU GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE. I'M CALLING THE COPS!"

Stiles watched as Jason flipped Derek the bird, and slowly backed out of the parking lot. _Stiles was surprised that Jason had complied, and he figured that the only reason he left, was because he was scared of Derek._ He took a shuddering breath, and went back into the apartment.

Derek gently put a hand on Stile's shoulder. "Calm down. We're going to call the cops, and let them take care of it." He said, reassuring.

"What if he hurts you?" Stiles whispered, as Derek pulled him into a hug against his chest. He could feel Derek's steady heartbeat. It was calming, compared to his own erratic, frantic heart. Stiles felt his fear start to ebb away, as Derek wrapped his arms around him.

Stiles sat down on the couch, and watched as Derek called the police. He quickly told them what had happened.

"They're going to his house right now," Derek said. "They're going to have a chat with him about staying away from you."

"It won't do much good." Stiles whispered, hugging Derek's throw pillow to his chest. "He won't give up."

"Stiles, I can't be with you twenty-four hours. Neither can Scott or your dad. At some point, Jason may hurt you when you're on your own." Derek said. "Here's a word of advice – if he tries anything, go for a vulnerable spot. Take him right out. Then you run like hell. Kick him in the crotch as hard as you can. Make it count. Or punch him in the throat. Hit in the back of the knees, make him fall down. Or break his nose. "

"I'm not a very good fighter," Stiles said, anxiously. "Can't I just run like hell, and skip the rest?"

Derek stood up. "Come on," He said, raising his fists. "Pretend I'm Jason. Practise on me."

Stiles laughed. "Dude, I'm not gonna punch you in the throat."

"Get up, Stiles." Derek said, not moving a muscle until finally, Stiles stood up and faced him. He made a fist, and tried to punch Derek in the stomach. Derek blocked him, easily. Stiles tried a few more times. Derek blocked each of his shots.

"You're being too predictable," Derek said. "I can practically read your movements on your face. Try to change it up a bit."

Stiles started to get angry, as none of his blows reached his target. He tried to keep his face neutral, tried to change up his pattern. Finally, he managed to hit Derek in the chest, his blow glancing off him.

"Very good," Derek said, not even winded. "Keep trying."

Stiles started to throw a punch, but surprised Derek by landing a sharp kick to his shin. Derek drew back in pain, as Stiles rushed at him, hitting him in the stomach. Derek doubled over, and held a hand up to stop Stiles from inflicting any more blows.

"Still too predictable?" Stiles asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"You're full of surprises," Derek told him, wincing. "Keep that up, and you can take him down, no problem."


	14. Following Stiles

When Stiles checked his email, he discovered that he had fifty three messages on Facebook. All of them were from Jason. He started to read the first few.

"_We need to talk, babe_."

"_I love you so much, please call me_."

"_I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you_."

"_Pick up the damned phone, Stiles. Just talk to me already_!"

It went on and on. Stiles decided midway through that he was going to delete the rest of the messages without reading them. _He didn't want to talk to Jason, and he certainly didn't want to be bombarded with constant emails._ He blocked Jason, and reported him for harrasment. _He wanted to forget the fact that they'd even dated, and move on with his life. Stiles just wanted Jason to leave him alone_.

Stiles' paranoia increased, as he constantly worried about being followed by Jason. Everywhere he went, whether it was the grocery store or just taking Rigby out to the dog park, Stiles found himself looking over his shoulder. Scanning the parked cars along his street, hoping that a certain Honda accord would not be there. Waiting for him.

The nightmares had started up again. Stiles would wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down his face as he was plagued with the nightmarish deaths of his loved ones. Derek, eviscerated. Scott, drowned, his skin a bluish tinge. His dad, trapped in a burning building. Isaac, beaten to death. He was a nervous wreck.

Stiles decided to get out of the house for awhile. His dad was at work, and he needed a distraction to stave off his mixture of restlessness and anxiety. Stiles took the jeep went for a drive, not really having a destination in mind. He kept glancing at the rear view mirror, just in case he was being followed. He spent an hour at the arcade, then decided to go to the store.

Stiles was standing in the middle of the grocery store, reading the back of a box of cereal, when Jason tapped him on the shoulder.

Stiles turned around, and froze when he saw Jason. His mouth dropped open, and he wanted to turn tail and run. He couldn't get his brain to communicate with his feet, as if they were filled with lead.

"You can't be anywhere near me. I have a restraining order." Stiles told him. He jerked away as Jason tried to grab Stiles' hand.

"Relax. I just want to talk. I'm not going to hurt you, or anything." Jason said, sounding wounded. "I came over to apologize."

"Apology not accepted," Stiles said snarkily, taking a step back. "And stop emailing me. I don't want to talk to you."

"I'm really sorry. I mean it." Jason said. "I've been taking anger management classes. And I went to see a therapist for the first time last week."

"Good for you." Stiles said, sarcastically. He grabbed a box of corn flakes, and threw it into his cart. "Now, get the hell out of here."

"I know my temper destroyed our relationship. But I want you to know, I've changed. I'm getting better. And if you could have it in your heart to take me back - "

Stiles gawked at him. "Getting back with you? Are you fucking serious?" He shouted, aware of people looking up at him. "Jason, you're delusional. Did you forget the part where you called me names and tried to choke me? We're through."

"I didn't mean to! It was a stupid drunken accident. I still love you, babe." Jason said, pleading with his eyes. "Could you ever bring yourself to forgive me?"

"Don't ever call me babe again. I'm not your babe. I'm Stiles." He said, taking another step back to create more distance between them. "And I will _never_ forgive you, you're a prick."

Jason grabbed Stiles roughly by his upper arms, and pulled him forward. "I'm trying to apologize to you," He said, his face twisting in anger. "The least you could do is give me another chance. Take me back."

"What, you're gonna hit me, Jason? Right here in the store? They have security cameras, dumb ass." Stiles said, nervously as he stared at him. Jason's face switched from furious to a scared expression as he stared at someone behind Stiles. He spun on his heel, and took off.

Stiles turned around. Derek Hale was standing behind him, fists clenched at his sides. Derek watched Jason scurry off, before turning to look at Stiles.

"You alright?" Derek asked.

"Nice timing," Stiles said. _Maybe a little bit too convenient_. "How'd you know where I was? I didn't even tell anyone I was going to the store."

"I've been following you all morning," Derek said.

"You _followed_ me?" He asked, incredulous. "You're joking, right?"

"I wanted to make sure you were safe." Derek shrugged. "I was worried that that little punk would try to contact you at some point. Figured he'd be more bold if he thought you were alone. What did he say to you?"

"He was trying to apologize. And he wanted to get back together." Stiles said, frowning.

"You said no, right?" Derek asked.

"I told him he was delusional." Stiles picked out a box of captain crunch, and put it in his basket on top of his groceries. Derek reached down, and grabbed the heavy basket from Stiles' hand. He hefted it up like it was nothing, and fell into step beside Stiles.

"I can carry it," Stiles said. "I'm not a weakling!"

"No offense, but you look like crap." Derek told him. "You look exhausted, and I think you need to get more sleep."

"I feel like crap." Stiles responded. "I keep having nightmares, and I'm constantly looking over my shoulder in case Jason decides to show up like he did today."

"Have you tried taking sleeping pills? Drinking tea before bed?" Derek suggested.

"Of course. It didn't help." Stiles said, as he went through the checkout.

They drove to Stiles' house, and Derek sat at the table and watched as Stiles put the groceries into the kitchen cupboard.

"He keeps messaging me, you know." Stiles said, as he sat down across from Derek. "He Facebooked, and emailed me. Last night he even called the house a few times. I didn't say a word, just kept hanging up."

"Have you told your dad yet?" Derek asked him, concerned.

"No. He's worried enough as it is. Jason's stalking behaviour is creepy, but it's not like he's hurt me again or anything. I'm hoping he'll stop, eventually." Stiles said.

"What if he doesn't? What if he escalates and tries to kill you or something?" Derek asked him. "You should tell your dad."

"I'll be fine," Stiles said. "Really."

Derek stood up, and hugged him. "I should probably get going. You think you'll be okay on your own till your dad gets home?"

"You could stay," Stiles told him, hopeful. "We could go catch a movie or something."

Derek's face lit up. "Yeah, that sounds fun." He said.

Stiles hesitated. "Like a date . . . if you want."

Derek grinned. "Date, it is."

Stiles wrote a quick note to his dad explaining where he was going, and stuck it to the fridge with a magnet. He grabbed his jacket, and followed Derek to the vehicle.

Stiles and Derek went to see a comedy. Stiles did his best to set aside his worries about Jason, and just enjoy his time with Derek. They bought a large popcorn to share, and two drinks. The movie was really funny, and Stiles couldn't stop laughing.

When the film was done, Derek suggested they go out to grab a bite to eat. Derek reached down and grabbed his hand. They walked out of the lobby, and went to get a slice of pizza.

"That was a good movie," Derek said, as he took a bite. "We could go see something next week, if you want."

Stiles grinned at him. "Sure."

Derek pulled up to the Stilinski house, and walked in with Stiles. The Sheriff was sitting at the kitchen table, in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. There was a bowl of pasta, half-eaten. The newspaper was spread out in front of him, and the Sheriff was intently solving the crossword puzzle.

"Hey, Mr. Stilinski." Derek said, nodding at him.

"Hey, Derek. Stiles," His dad said, glancing up. "Had a good date?"

"We did." Stiles said. He followed Derek to the front door, and gave him a quick kiss. "Bye, Derek. I'll see you later."

Stiles went into the living room, and flopped down bonelessly, on the couch. He grabbed the remote, pressing the DVR button. He put on a recording of a Mets game from a few months ago.

"Goodnight, son," The Sheriff said, poking his head into the doorway an hour later. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night, dad," Stiles said, giving a small wave.

"He's a good guy," his dad said, giving Stiles a smile. "You two make a pretty cute couple."

"Thanks," Stiles said. He watched as his dad went upstairs to his room. Stiles could hear Rigby whining in the kitchen, and he paused the baseball game. Rigby was urgently scratching at the door, her claws digging into the wooden frame. She started barking repeatedly.

"C'mon, girl." Stiles unlocked the door, and let her out.

He watched from the window as Rigby squatted on the snow, and went to the bathroom. She wandered to the edge of the property, and started to sniff the ground.

"Rigby!" Stiles said, opening the door. "Come inside!"

Rigby continued to sniff the ground, catching a scent. She looked up, and started to bark. Stiles could hear her growling.

Stiles rolled his eyes. It was nearly two in the morning, and he worried that his neighbours would complain about the noise_. She was probably barking at the neighbour's cat again. Or a squirrel._ He slipped on his shoes, and walked across the crunchy top layer of the snow.

"Rigby, let's go." Stiles said, grabbing her collar. There was a flurry of movement in the corner of the backyard, and Stiles' heart skipped a beat.

"Who's there?" Stiles called out.

Jason stepped out of the shadows, and held up his hands in surrender. "Don't freak out, Stiles. I was just in the neighbourhood," Jason said. "Can we talk?" He reached down to pat Rigby on the head.

Rigby snarled at Jason, her lip curled over her teeth, and Stiles tightened his grip on her collar. "Easy, Rigby," Stiles said, as Jason jerked his hand away from the golden retriever.

"You really want me to believe you were in the neighbourhood at two in the morning?" Stiles asked. "I'm calling the cops."

"_Don't_!" Jason said, reaching for Stiles. "Please, don't. I – just, needed to see you."

"Get off my property," Stiles said, fuming. "Right now."

He watched as Jason turned around, and walked back to his car. He counted a full two minutes just to make sure Jason was in fact, gone, before he turned and went inside the house.


	15. Car crash

"Dad, I think we need to change our phone number," Stiles told him, worriedly. "Jason's been calling me non-stop this past week. He literally called me twelve times last night, trying to get me to go back out with him. It's driving me crazy."

The Sheriff paused the game show they were watching, and raised his eyebrows at his son. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asked, surprised. "He's not supposed to have any contact with you."

Stiles gave his dad an uneasy look. "I thought he would stop after a few days. Get bored, and just move on. And when Jason followed me into the store a few days ago – "

His dad clenched his jaw. "He what?"

Stiles looked away, flustered. "I went to get groceries while you were at work, and I ran into him. He kept trying to apologize, said he just wanted to talk." Stiles told him. "He took off when Derek showed up."

"Is that the only time you've spoken to Jason?" His dad asked.

Stiles hesitated. "I took Rigby out at two in the morning, and Jason was hiding in the backyard, that same night." He said.

"Son," The Sheriff said. "This is really serious. I don't think he's going to just stop bothering you, we need to report this."

"Yeah." Stiles agreed.

"I'll call the phone company tomorrow, get a new number. I suggest you do the same thing for your cell phone. That way he won't be able to call us anymore."

A few days later, Stiles bundled up and went for a walk. His cell phone rang. Stiles looked down at his phone, but didn't recognize the number.

"Hello? Stiles asked. "Who is this?"

"We need to talk. Can we go out for a coffee?"

Stiles groaned, when he recognized his ex-boyfriend's voice. He wondered where Jason had even gotten his phone number, after he'd had it changed a few days ago.

"Jason, leave me alone." Stiles said, about to hang up.

"Wait! Please, I just wanted to talk to you. I'll leave you alone after we talk, I swear! Please."

Stiles stopped walking. "Jason, I don't have time for your bullshit. I'm not going back out with you. Ever. Stop calling me, and stop following me around."

"Stiles, I just need to see you once more. I'm at the coffee shop across from the town hall, please, just come and talk to me." Jason pleaded.

Stiles thought it over for a minute_. If he went to the coffee shop, there would be lots of people, and Stiles hoped that Jason would have the good sense to not yell or shove him in public._ He sighed.

"Okay, fine. I'll meet you in ten minutes," Stiles said, hanging up.

Jason was already seated at one of the tables, and Stiles quickly made his way over. Jason smiled at him as he sat down.

"I'm glad you came," He said. "I've missed you so much."

Stiles stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets, and leaned back in his seat. "I didn't really want to – you've been driving me nuts with all your emails and phone calls."

"I just wanted to talk to you. Just the two of us, not with your dad or Derek interfering." Jason said. "I want to apologize for hurting you in the past, babe. It'll never happen again. I've changed." Jason told him.

Stiles slowly shook his head. "Jason, I'm meeting with you today to put an end to our relationship, permanently. I'm not taking you back. We're through. I can't be with someone who thinks it's okay to hurt me. Don't ever contact me again."

Jason's eyes misted. "Please, please give me a second chance! Stiles, I'm begging you!"

"No."

"I'll get a job! I'll buy you another Xbox! Please, just don't do this. I can't live without you." Jason said. "We're soulmates, we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together! Why can't you see that?"

"We're not soulmates, Jason." Stiles said, firmly.

"Give me one good reason why we can't be together."

"Because I wasn't happy with you," Stiles spat out. "I was so stressed out all the time. About money, and finances, and everything! I was constantly walking on eggshells around you. Hoping you wouldn't lash out and hit me whenever you didn't get your own way. It was hellish, Jason. My anxiety was through the roof."

"We could try it again. Make it work this time." Jason pleaded. "I'll never hit you again, I swear."

Stiles groaned. "Yeah, I've heard that from you before," He said, rolling his eyes.

"Is this because you're dating Derek?" Jason asked him, jealous. "You think he's better than me?"

"He _is_ better than you. He doesn't call me names, or try to coerce me into having threesomes with strangers, or leave bruises, or . . ." Stiles said, folding his arms across his chest. "I love him. We're dating now. I'm happy with him."

"I will never allow you to be with another man," Jason told him, a spark of jealousy showing in his face. "Consider yourself warned."

"You threatening me now?" Stiles said, staring wide-eyed at him.

"Relax, it's just a joke." Jason reached out to him, putting a hand on Stiles' arm. "I would never do anything to hurt you."

Jason watched as Stiles stood up, and rushed out of the coffee shop. _It had been a mistake to see Jason, he knew that now. And it had been a mistake to reveal that he was dating Derek, that he loved him. Stiles regretted saying anything to Jason, clearly his ex was still trying to manipulate him. Worm his way back into Stiles' life any way he could._

Stiles walked home, mulling over his conversation with Jason. He made himself a sandwich, and sat down in front of his computer. He wanted to see Derek. Stiles dusted the crumbs off his desk, and stood up. He decided to drive out to Harrison, and see if Derek wanted to hang out before his shift started. Stiles grabbed the car keys, and took the jeep for a ride.

Halfway to Harrison, Stiles noticed Jason's vehicle behind him. They were on a deserted country road. Empty fields on either side of him, they were the only cars on the road. His phone chirped.

"_Pull over_." Jason had texted him. He inched his car closer behind the Jeep, nearly tail-gating him, and laid on the horn. Stiles panicked, and stomped on the gas pedal. They were ten miles outside of town.

Jason's car rammed into the back of the Jeep, jolting Stiles forward in his seat.

"Son of a bitch!" Stiles shouted, flipping him off. Stiles tried to dial his dad's number, but the Jeep swerved on a patch of black ice, and he dropped the phone in his lap. Jason pulled into the lane alongside Stiles, and rolled down his window.

"PULL OVER!" Jason shouted, swerving into Stiles' lane. Stiles veered to the side, trying to avoid getting hit by Jason's car. The road was slick, and Stiles had a difficult time trying to keep the vehicle from going off the road. His fingers clenched the wheel, as he stared out the frosty windshield.

The jeep fishtailed, and crashed into the embankment on the side of the road. Stiles screamed in terror, as the vehicle flipped, leaving him hanging upside down for a few brief seconds before righting itself. His head smacked into the steering wheel. Stiles gasped in pain as blood dripped into his eyes. His ribs hurt.

He could barely see anything, and his limbs felt sluggish as he tried to move. Stiles felt someone open his car door. Hands unbuckled Stiles' seatbelt, and pulled him out of the vehicle. He felt strong arms lift him up, one hand under his knees.

"Derek?" Stiles mumbled, confused. He used his free arm to wipe some of the blood out of his eyes, and saw with dismay that it was Jason carrying him. Stiles opened his mouth, and tried to talk. He wanted to know why Jason was carrying him, and where they were going.

His brain felt jumbled. Stiles was having trouble forming the words. He caught a glimpse of his baby blue Jeep, one side crushed. He bit back a sob, as he stared at the battered vehicle.

"Shhh," Jason told him, hefting him up. "I got you. You're safe now."

Stiles' eyes rolled back in his head, his body limp in Jason's grip. He drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Jason carried him to his vehicle, and gently placed him on a blanket in the backseat.


	16. Concussion

Stiles slowly opened his eyes, disoriented. He stared foggily around the unfamiliar room. His mouth was dry, and his head was throbbing. Stiles was lying on a twin sized bed, covered in a ratty patchwork quilt. He shivered in the frigid room, as he reached up to touch the bandage on his head, and the large, tender bruise on his forehead. He turned his head to the side, and looked around. Apart from the bed, the room was bare.

"Where am I?" Stiles called out, confused. "Hello?"

_The last thing he remembered was getting in his jeep to go visit Derek. And now here he was, in a strange room, with a bandaged head and sore ribs? How the hell did that happen? _ Stiles tried to sit up, and he discovered his left wrist was handcuffed to the bed frame beside his head. Stiles pulled on the restraint, surprised.

"What the hell . . .?" He murmured. Stiles sat up, and rubbed his sore wrist. He heard the door open, and Jason walked in. He was holding a tray of food. The mattress creaked, as he sat down beside Stiles.

"Hi, Stiles," Jason said. He reached out and stroked Stiles' cheek. "Good to see you're awake. You've been out for nearly twelve hours."

"I have?" Stiles asked. "Jason, what the hell is going on? I think i'm gonna be sick," Stiles said, feeling nauseated. Jason put a bowl in his lap, and waited while Stiles threw up. Stiles wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and uncapped the water bottle. He took a sip, as he looked at Jason.

"Where are we?" Stiles asked. "This isn't your house."

"I took you somewhere safe, don't worry." Jason said. "Actually, it's my cousin's house. They moved to Fresno, and the house is on the market. I have the spare key."

He lifted a spoonful of broth, and held it up to Stiles' mouth. "Open up," Jason said. Stiles dutifully opened his mouth.

"You really don't remember the accident?" Jason asked him, as Stiles greedily slurped up the liquid. "You crashed your Jeep on a patch of ice. Lucky for you, I pulled you out of the wreckage, and patched you up. You hit your head pretty bad, and I think some of your ribs are cracked. Don't worry, I wrapped them up for you."

"I crashed my car? I don't remember that. Why don't I remember?" Stiles asked, confused. "Is my Jeep okay?"

"It looked damaged beyond repair, Stiles. Probably will have to sell that jeep for parts." Jason told him, sympathetically, as he lifted another spoonful. "I think you have a concussion, which explains the memory loss."

"Why am I handcuffed?" Stiles asked. "Why didn't you take me to hospital?"

"Don't worry, Stiles. I can take of you just fine. No need for the hospital," Jason said, breaking the bread into morsels. He dipped a chunk of bread into the soup, and placed it in Stiles' mouth. Stiles chewed it, and swallowed.

"I feel like crap, and I wanna go home. This is kidnapping, by the way." Stiles tugged on his chained wrist. The metal handcuff made a clanking sound against the brass headboard. "Can you please uncuff me?"

"No." Jason said, smiling. "You're not going anywhere."

Stiles' breathing quickened, as he stared at Jason. "You can't keep me prisoner. I don't even know where the hell I am. Are we in Harrison?"

Jason shook his head, offering Stiles another piece of bread. "Eat up, babe. Regain your strength." Jason put a hand on Stiles' leg, and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. Stiles flinched back from Jason's touch.

"Where's my phone?" Stiles asked, looking around. "I need to call my dad, he'll be worried about me. What's the address? He can pick me up."

Jason frowned, his eyes squinting. "You don't seem very grateful that I'm taking care of you, Stiles."

"I am grateful. I just – I really wanna go home. Please take off the handcuff," Stiles begged. "I won't run away or anything. My wrist hurts."

"And have you run back to Derek?" Jason asked, reaching out to cup Stiles' jaw. "I've only just got you back, honey. You're not going anywhere."

Stiles started to cry. "Jason, don't do this," He whispered. "I don't wanna be with you. Take me home."

"We're _meant_ to be together. You'll thank me one day." Jason told him, standing up. "You and I, we're meant to be."

Stiles' heart sank as Jason abruptly stood up, and picked up the tray of food. There was still a lot of broth left over. He was so parched, and Stiles could barely swallow.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked. "Jason!"

"You can have more food later, if you can be civil," Jason told him. "Right now, you're being really rude. Ungrateful bitch."

"Don't go! I'm so thirsty!" Stiles begged. He tried to grab the tray with his free hand. Jason smacked his hand away. Stiles stared down at the quilt, as Jason backed up.

"I said you can eat later, Stiles!" Jason told him, fiercely , walking out of the room.

After Jason left, Stiles laid back down, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. He couldn't stop shivering. His chest hurt, every breath felt like his ribs were on fire. Stiles drowsily closed his eyes and fell asleep. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep for, but he woke up with a start.

"STILES!" Jason had his hands on Stiles' shoulder, shaking him roughly. Stiles' eyes flew open, and he fearfully stared up at his ex-boyfriend. As soon as Jason saw that he was awake, he sat back on the mattress, relieved.

"You shouldn't shake people with a concussion," Stiles slurred. "It's bad for the brain."

"I was trying to wake you up for like, ten minutes. You weren't responsive. I called your name, and you wouldn't wake up!" Jason said. "I was worried you'd gone into a coma or something."

Stiles shook his head. "Sleep is good," He said. Jason lifted the water to Stiles' lips, and watched him drink.

"Here," He said, putting two Tylenols in Stiles' hand. "For your headache."

"Thanks," Stiles muttered, swallowing the pills. He closed his eyes. He felt Jason pull the blanket back, and lie down beside him. Jason wrapped his arms around him, as Stiles went back to sleep.


	17. Searching for Stiles

The cop pulled over to the side of the road, and stared at the baby blue jeep. The vehicle had visible damage from a collision. One side was crushed inward, the driver's door swung wide open. It appeared to be empty, and he got out to take a closer look. One hand on his gun holster, Deputy Parrish peered into the vacant Jeep. There was dried blood on the driver's seat, and the steering wheel.

Parrish called dispatch on his radio, and called for backup. He gave his location, as he reached out to touch the hood of the vehicle. It was still warm. Whoever had crashed couldn't be too far away. Parrish scanned the empty, snow-covered fields. He wondered if possibly whoever had crashed might've gotten disoriented, and wandered off.

There were no footprints in the fresh snow, he noted. Parrish jotted down the licence plate, and looked up the owner's name on his computer. Stilinski. The Sheriff's son, Stiles.

He called the Sheriff, and told him about the vehicle. Deputy Parrish waited in his warm vehicle, until the Sheriff pulled up beside him.

Sheriff Stilinski looked visibly upset when he saw his son's Jeep. Parrish hated dealing with distraught parents, and this time was no different. The Sheriff was on the verge of tears.

"Where's my son?" He asked. "Where is Stiles?"

"Sir, there's no sign of your son," Parrish told him, putting a hand on the Sheriff's arm. "He could very well have wandered off. With an injury like that, he might've gotten confused. But there are no footprints in the fields. The Jeep's engine is still warm."

"It's freezing out here," The Sheriff said, walking over to the vehicle, and looking inside. He tried to ignore his son's blood on the front seat, as he dug around. He fished out Stiles' cell phone from under the seat. The screen was cracked, but the device managed to turn on. He searched through the recent texts and phone calls. It felt strange to be snooping on Stiles' phone. He read the last text.

"_Pull over_?" He read out loud, showing the screen to Parrish. "Whoever sent him this text, called Stiles earlier today."

Parrish dialed the number, and listened as it rang. It went to voicemail. "_You've reached Jason Brightley, please leave a message at the beep_."

The Sheriff shook his head. "Ah, crap. I think something bad happened to Stiles. His ex-boyfriend was harassing him lately. Stiles had to take a restraining order against him a few weeks ago, the kid was physically assaulting him."

"Jason Brightley? I know that kid. Well, I know of him," Parrish corrected. "Got a horrible reputation. He lives out in Harrison, right?"

"Yeah." The Sheriff said.

Parrish sucked in his breath. "I'll go to his house, have a talk with him."

Stiles woke up, stiff and uncomfortable. Jason was snoring beside him, one arm slung over Stiles' bandaged ribs. He moved Jason's arm, and inched away from him. Trying to get as much distance as he could on the tiny bed. Stiles pressed his back against the wall, and scrubbed his eyes with his hand. His brain felt less foggy than it had been yesterday.

He remembered the accident. Dreamt about it, and once he'd awoken, Stiles knew the truth. Jason hadn't just 'found him' in a car accident like he'd claimed. He'd been the one to run him off the road. Jason was the _reason _for the crash.

Stiles watched as Jason stirred, and opened his grey eyes.

"You're up," Jason smiled, reaching over to trace his fingers against Stiles' arm. "Sleep well?"

"I know the truth about the accident." Stiles told him, coldly. "I mean, I remember what really happened." He pulled his arm away from Jason's grasp. "I know that you caused me to go off the road."

Jason froze. "I saved you." He said, frowning. "I protected you."

"Dude, you ran me off the road. " Stiles told him, angrily. "I could've died, dude. I'm lucky to only have a concussion. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"You were going to see Derek. You even called his name, when I pulled you out of the car. You called _his_ name," Jason said, enviously. "I had to stop you, I just wanted you to pull over so I could talk to you. Reason with you. You were so prepared to throw away our entire relationship, not even try to work out our problems."

"I'm not dating you, Jason. We're through. There was nothing more to discuss," Stiles told him, his headache throbbing. "I told you that. I've _been_ telling you that!"

Jason's jaw clenched. "I still have feelings for you. I still love you. Nothing can change that." He reached out, and clasped Stiles' hand. "Is that really so hard to understand? I just wanna spend the rest of my life with you."

"I don't." Stiles scowled at him. "I'm happier with Derek."

Jason sat up, and moved to the end of the bed. Stiles watched his taut shoulders, could see Jason's knuckles gripping the mattress. He was upset, of course. But it needed to be said. No need to skirt these issues.

"I still love you," Jason said, not looking at him. "Even though we're broken up, I will always love you."

"Take off the handcuffs," Stiles said. "Please. Even for just a few minutes."

Stiles waited, quietly. Finally, Jason turned around, and dug the tiny key out of his jeans pocket. He unclasped the handcuff from Stiles' wrist.

"Thanks," Stiles said. He rubbed his sore wrist, and scooted closer to Jason, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed.

"Look," Stiles said. "I know you still have feelings for me. That is obvious. But I don't feel that for you anymore. I'm sorry, but it's true. You need to move on, find someone else. Are you still seeing your therapist?"

Jason nodded, glumly. "Yeah," He said, not looking at Stiles. "I have a session every week."

Stiles smiled, encouragingly. "Okay," He said. "Have you tried online dating? I bet there's someone out there for you. It's a big world."

He watched as Jason stood up and walked across the room. He put his hand on the doorknob.

"C'mon. Bathroom's down the hall, if you have to go."Jason said. "I have to leave in a few minutes."

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked.

"Out. I have to buy more groceries. Don't worry, I'll be back in a few hours."

A few hours? Stiles thought, his heart sinking. The room was freezing, and even with the extra blanket Jason had piled on him, he was still continually shivering uncontrollably.

"Don't leave me here. Take me with you!" Stiles begged, thinking of the heated car interior. Jason shook his head. Stiles went down the hall, and went to the bathroom. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, shocked to see how pale he was. He had huge circles under his eyes. Stiles touched the bandage on his forehead. The bandage was crusted with dried blood, and he wondered if Jason would buy new supplies at the store, if he could get clean dressings.

"Time's up," Jason said. "Let's go."

They walked back to the bedroom, and Stiles refused to look at Jason when he secured his wrist to the bed frame.

"I'll be back soon," Jason told him, handing Stiles a bottle of water.


	18. Thin ice

Deputy Parrish knocked on Jason's door. He waited, but there was no response. He peered into the window, trying to tell if either Stiles or Jason were inside. Jason's house looked empty, and his car wasn't in the driveway. Parrish dialed Jason's number, but it went straight to voicemail. Parrish called the Sheriff.

"Hey, nobody's here," Parrish said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go to the station, and print off a picture of Jason, and another of Stiles. I want you to start canvassing businesses in Harrison. See if anyone has seen either of them. Call me if you have anything." The Sheriff told him. "I've got a team of people searching the crash site, but so far, nothing. I don't think he wandered off," He said. "I'm heading out to talk to some of Stiles' friends."

Sheriff Stilinski drove into Harrison, and parked outside of the bar. He walked in, and sat down on one of the barstools. Derek looked surprised to see him.

"Hey, Derek," The Sheriff said. "Have you talked to Stiles at all today?"

Derek shook his head. "No. Why?" He asked.

"He crashed his Jeep a few miles outside of town, but his Jeep's empty. I can't find him, and I'm worried Jason is responsible, because he was texting and calling Stiles shortly before the car accident."

Derek gave him a worried look. "He didn't call me today. I didn't know he was even coming into town."

"I sent one of my deputies out to Jason's house to talk to him, but he isn't there." The Sheriff said. "I've already checked with the hospital, but they have no John Doe's, or anyone matching Stiles' description. There was a lot of blood in his Jeep." He took a shuddering breath. "He's out there, somewhere. I need to find him."

Derek walked around the bar, and sat down beside him. "I'll help you search for Stiles," He said. "I can take the night off. I'll get someone to cover for me."

The Sheriff watched as Derek called one of his coworkers, and begged them to take his shift.

" . . .Look, I know it's short notice, but something came up. I need you to cover for me, please." Derek begged, as he put on his jacket. He listened intently.

"YES! THANK YOU! I owe you, big time!" Derek said, hanging up. They waited until his coworker showed up. She gave Derek an annoyed look, as he handed her the keys.

"I had plans tonight," She said. "This better be important!"

"I owe you one." Derek told her, gratefully, as he got into the passenger seat of the Sheriff's vehicle.

"Where to?" Derek asked.

"We need to track down Jason Brightley. We'll need to trace his steps from this morning." The Sheriff said, turning up the heat. "I'm going to print off his picture at the station, and start canvassing stores in the area, maybe someone saw him."

"We could try asking Jason's best friend, Seth." Derek suggested. "Those two are pretty close."

They looked up Seth's address, and drove to his house. He answered the door, blinking confused at the sight of Sheriff Stilinski, and Derek Hale on his doorstep.

"What's up?" he drawled. "I ain't done nothing wrong."

"We're not here to arrest you for anything," the Sheriff said. "We're looking to talk to Jason Brightley."

"You're Stiles' dad, aren't you?" Seth asked. "Jason mentioned you were some hot-shot Sheriff, or whatever."

"That's right."

"And you're looking for Jason?" Seth asked, as he let them in. "He's not here, man."

The Sheriff glanced around the cluttered living room. The decor was straight out of the seventies – macramé plant holders, shag carpet, floor model TV. Not what he was expecting from the stoner teenager standing in front of him.

"You live alone?" The Sheriff asked, raising his eyebrow. "It's uh, nice. Reminds me of my mom's old house."

"I live with my mom and dad. They're pretty old school," Seth shrugged. "They hate redecorating. Says it looks fine the way it is."

Derek shuffled, impatiently. "So, when's the last time you've seen Jason?" He asked. The Sheriff gave him a quick look, surprised to see Derek taking the lead in the questioning.

"Few days ago. We were going to meet up for drinks tonight, but he's not answering his phone."

"Mind if we search the property? Last time the police were searching for Jason, he found his way to your basement, if I'm correct." Sheriff Stilinski said, as Seth sat down on the lumpy couch.

"Go ahead," Seth told them. "I'm not harbouring his fugitive ass this time."

Derek and the Sheriff searched the house, and came up empty. They walked back to the living room, and took a seat.

"Is there anywhere that you can think of that Jason would hide out? This is really important. We believe he has my son."

"I dunno," Seth said. "Maybe one of my friends might've helped him out. He doesn't really have family in the area. I mean, his parents being dead and all. I think he has a cousin in the area."

The Sheriff took out a notepad. "I'll need the phone numbers and addresses of your friends. Anyone you can think of." He watched as Seth quickly scrawled out a list of friends.

"Thanks, you've been a great help." Derek said to Seth. They went back into the vehicle, and continued on the search.

Stiles could smell the liquor on Jason's breath, before he even opened his eyes. The pungent scent wafted through the room. Stiles' eyes snapped open, and the first thing he saw was Jason, perched on the end of the bed. Bottle in hand, he was taking long swigs of vodka.

"Bit early for drinking vodka straight, isn't it?" Stiles said, dryly. Jason had been gone for nearly three hours. Stiles' headache hadn't abated at all, and the wound on his scalp itched under the bandage.

"You thought you could just leave me?" Jason muttered, glaring at him. He reached out and grabbed Stiles' wrist. "Just leave me for another man? You cold-hearted bitch. I gave you everything!"

"Yeah, including bruises. Like you're doing right now," Stiles pointed out, as he jerked his arm out of Jason's grasp.

Jason stood up, and set the bottle down on the floor. He started pacing the cold hardwood floor.

"What do I do with you, now?" He asked, angrily. "You were supposed to be mine. Not Derek's. Never his. You broke my heart."

"And I chose to leave you. Please respect that as my decision." Stiles told him. "I would never date you again. Let me go home."

Jason stopped pacing, and stared intently at him. "Yeah, you're not going anywhere. I can't bring you home without having the cops arrest me. And there's no chance in hell that I'm going to be someone's bitch in jail. Not gonna happen. Nobody even knows you're here." Jason mused, resuming his pacing. "I could literally murder you, and dispose of your body. Nobody would be any the wiser."

Stiles reared back from him. "You're sick," He said, disgusted.

"Have you ever given thought as to how you'd like to die? Gunshot to the head? Drowning? Throwing a toaster in the bathtub?" Jason asked him, taking another swig. "Good thing this property is right next to a forest. I could bury your worthless body in a shallow grave. By the time it's spring, the animals will have torn your rotted corpse to shreds. Your dad will have to bury an empty coffin."

"Jason, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Stiles asked, feeling nauseous. He tugged anxiously on his chained wrist, as he stared at Jason. Stiles wasn't entirely sure if Jason was just toying with him (like some twisted cat and mouse game), or if he truly intended on killing him. He didn't want to stick around long enough to find out.

Stiles was filled with revulsion, as Jason forcefully grabbed the back of his head with one hand, and deeply kissed him. "Let's have a bit of fun," Jason told him, slipping a hand into Stiles'pants. "For old time's sake."

"Kiss me again, and I'll bite you. I swear to god, Jason – " Stiles warned him. Jason punched him, hard. He dug through his pockets, and produced the handcuff key.

"I'm going to release you now," Jason said. "And we're gonna have a bit of fun. Well_, I_ am, anyway." Jason undid the handcuffs. "And when we're finished, we're gonna go for a little walk. I know the perfect spot. There's a little pond out back, covered in _very_ thin ice. I could make it look like an accident. You foolishly stepped through the thin ice, and couldn't crawl back out. I tried to help you, I really did. But it was too late. They won't recover your frozen body until a few months from now."

Stiles swung at him, hitting Jason in the chest. He tried to hit Jason in the stomach. Jason blocked him, and grabbed his arm. Pinned him against the mattress.

Jason lowered himself onto Stiles' body. He had Stiles' wrist pinned above his head, his other hand gripping Stiles' face. He started to move, slowly at first. Grinding against him, enjoying the friction of their bodies rubbing against each other. Stiles was crying, soundless, tears dripping down his face and soaking into the pillow.

"You'll always be mine, babe." Jason told him,caressing Stiles' cheek. "You're so pretty when you cry." Stiles flinched, and tried to turn his head away from Jason. His touch was poison. Toxic.

"Let's put that sweet mouth of yours to good use," Jason told him, releasing Stiles. He sat back, and started to undo his belt. Stiles let out a blood-curdling scream. He swung his fist, and hit Jason in the face. He heard the crunch of Jason's nose breaking, and he felt the warm blood spray onto his hands. Stiles punched Jason in the throat, as hard as he could. He heard Jason make a terrible gurgling sound, as he grabbed his neck. Stiles rolled off the bed, landing painfully on the floor. Stiles could feel Jason grab his t-shirt, and he wrenched free of his grasp. He scrambled to his feet, and ran into the hallway.


	19. The Woods

"Excuse me," Parrish said, as he walked into the gas station. "Have you seen this man?" He held up the picture of Jason Brightley. The clerk behind the till lowered his magazine and squinted at the photo, before nodding.

"Yeah," He said. "He was here yesterday. And today."

Deputy Parrish heaved a sigh of relief. Finally. After canvassing every business in Harrison, he'd finally got results. The tired looking gas station sat a mile outside of Harrison, full of dusty shelves of tinned goods and auto supplies.

"Was there a teenager with him?" He asked, pulling out the photograph of Stiles.

The man shook his head. "Nope. He came in alone, picked up a few items and took off."

"Can you recall what he purchased? Do you have security cameras?" Parrish asked.

"Don't have cameras," He replied. "I do remember what he bought, though. I was keeping an eye on him, he was kind of a shifty looking customer. He bought a first aid kit, and some cans of soup, a can opener, and some bottles of water."

"You have a very good memory," Parrish commented, surprised.

The man shrugged. "I only had a handful of customers. This place don't get much traffic, seeing as we're kind of out of the way."

"You mentioned he was here today, as well?" Parrish questioned. "When was that?"

"About an hour ago."

"What'd he buy?"

The man popped open the cash register, and skimmed through the stack of receipts. He found Jason's, and slapped it on the counter so Parrish could read it.

"A few cans of ravioli, a hatchet, a coil of rope. Paid with debit," The man told him, leaning against the cash register. "Say, what'd this kid do, anyway?"

"That's a police matter," Parrish said, taking out his notepad. He scribbled out his phone number, and passed it to the man. "You see him again, you call me, okay? It's really important."

Parrish went outside, and called the Sheriff to let him know what he'd learned.

"Alright, thanks Parrish." The Sheriff said, as he hung up. Derek looked at him, expectantly.

"Gas station attendant remembers seeing Jason an hour ago. He bought a hatchet, and some rope." The Sheriff said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Derek felt a sinking feeling. "You don't think he's gonna kill –" He couldn't finish his sentence out loud.

The Sheriff clapped a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Son, don't," he said, his voice cracking. "Please, Derek. We'll find him in time." Derek nodded.

"Where does his cousin live? Is it nearby?" He asked. Sheriff Stilinski looked through Jason's file.

"His cousin's house is down the road from the gas station," He said. "Let's go stop by. Maybe he took Stiles there."

Stiles nearly broke his neck as he raced down the flight of stairs. He clutched the bannister, sliding painfully down the last few steps. Trying to stop himself from falling on his face. The house was nearly empty, save for a few pieces of furniture. He was hoping to find something he could use as a weapon - a baseball bat, a hammer, a lamp, anything. He was out of luck.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Jason screamed from the landing, livid. Blood was still dripping from his broken nose, and there was a large bruise forming on Jason's neck where Stiles had hit him. Jason's heavy boots made a deafening sound on the wooden stairs, as he chased after Stiles.

Stiles fumbled to unlock the back door, and desperately flung it open. He jumped off the porch steps, and headed for the treeline at the edge of the backyard.

"I'll rip the skin off your bones!" Jason screamed, running to get the hatchet from his car. He followed Stiles into the woods.

Stiles bolted, his heart pounding against his ribcage. The frosty air sucker punched his lungs, and he struggled to breathe. His body wracked with pain, sending into a violent coughing fit. He had to keep moving. Stiles could still hear Jason's shouted threats ringing in his ears.

"You think you can get yourself to safety?" Jason called out. "I know these woods. Way better than you ever could, you stupid whore."

Stiles cut through the woods, veering around the pond. He slowed when he realized Jason's shouting had gotten quieter, dying out altogether. _Had he backed off_? Stiles turned around, and scanned the woods. He could just barely make out the roof and chimney of the house through the trees, but Jason was nowhere in sight.

He was gasping, and Stiles knew he had to stop to take a breather. He slid down the embankment, and put his back against a large tree.

Stiles didn't even know how close he was to civilization. He could be near Harrison, or Beacon Hills, or he could be miles out in the sticks. He had to find a way out of there, before Jason found him and killed him.

Stiles dug through the underbrush, and found a large stick with a jagged end. He could use it as a weapon, if Jason tried to attack him, he thought. Better than nothing. Stiles heard a twig snapping behind him, and he whirled around, brandishing the stick in his hand.

Jason stood in the middle of the clearing, his back to Stiles. One hand was wrapped around the handle of the metal hatchet. Stiles hefted the up in his hand, trying to find a better grip. He could barely feel his numb fingers. He backed up, and hid behind the tree. He clamped one hand over his mouth, in an effort to stifle his harsh breathing.

"I know you're out here! And I know these woods better than you, Stiles!" Jason called out. "I've spent a lot of time here, in the summers. You think you can outwit me on my own turf?"

Stiles stayed where he was, his back to the tree. The minute Jason moved on, he was going to make his move. Run, and get the hell out of dodge.

"Nobody could ever love you as well as I can!" Jason called out, his voice getting closer. Stiles' whole body tensed, ready to flee. "We could've been the perfect couple, Stiles."

"Give yourself up, Stiles," Jason called out, stomping through the snow. "We both know I'll find you eventually! Stop prolonging your inevitable death."

Stiles stifled a strangled sob, as he clamped his shaking hand tighter over his mouth. Tried to keep from making a sound, as he pressed his back against the rough bark.

"Come out, Little Red!" Jason sing-songed. "The Big, Bad Wolf is here to slaughter you, and rip your body to shreds."

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like he was going to have a panic attack, as he listened to Jason shout. Stiles heard Jason start to walk away, his voice getting quieter. He took a few tentative steps, glancing over his shoulder to try and find where Jason was. It had been a trick. Jason was waiting for him.

Jason lunged at him, wrapping his arm across Stiles' neck in a chokehold and pulled him back against his chest. Stiles struggled, pulling at the vise-like grip on his throat. Jason started to drag him backwards, the hatchet pressed into his stomach. Stiles tried to drag his heels in the snow, to slow them down, but Jason pressed on.

"Stop squirming, we're almost there," Jason told him, pressing the blade harder into Stiles' belly.

"If you're going to kill me, just do it already," Stiles rasped, his numb fingers clutching Jason's arm. Jason let go of him. Stiles backed up, on the edge of the frozen pond.

"I want to see you suffer. Not a quick, painless death for you. I want to see you in agony," Jason told him, raising the hatchet over his head. "I'm gonna start by cutting off your fingers. Then, I'll – "

Stiles backed away from him. He took a tentative step onto the slick surface. It held. And another. The ice made a low, groaning noise under his sneakers as he put his weight on it. Jason followed him onto the pond, but as soon as he heard the groaning, he jumped back. He watched as Stiles shuffled further onto the slick surface.

He could see frozen plants underneath the layer of the grey, cracked ice. Stiles sucked in a breath. He took a step, his left foot sliding along the glassy surface. Stiles figured it would be a safer bet out on the thin ice, then sticking around with Jason and his hatchet. Even though the notion of falling through the ice into the frigid water terrified him, he figured his chances of survival were higher.

Stiles had a plan. If he could get to the other side of the pond in one piece, he could make a run for it. Try and get to the main road, and get to safety. But it would only work if he didn't drown. Or freeze to death.

He stepped on a soft spot, the ice dipping. Frigid water rushed up to the surface, soaking his shoes. He put his full weight on it. It held. He took a few more steps until he was clear of the rising water. Heart pounding, he remembered reading an article online about keeping your body weight more evenly distributed by lying down. He got down on all fours, and tried crawling forward.

CRACK!

The ice broke a few feet from him, splitting jaggedly across surface. Stiles launched himself forward, doing a poor man's imitation of a penguin sliding along the surface. He slid ten feet on his belly, nearly at the other side. He stood up, trying to stay on his feet without falling down on his ass. He stepped on the solid ground. Heaving a sigh of relief, he looked around. He'd made it, he thought proudly. Stiles watched as Jason stared at him in disbelief from the other side of the pond. Hatchet still in his hand, Jason started run around the perimeter of the pond. Stiles trudged on, his sodden sneakers dragging him down. He couldn't feel his feet, they were numb from slogging through the ice cold water.


	20. Hatchet

Sheriff Stilinski turned on the police car lights, and sped to Jason's cousin's house. He was determined to get there, before Jason would use his hatchet against Stiles. Derek looked out the window, reading off the names and numbers on the rural mailboxes. "Wait! That's it!" Derek shouted, grabbing the dashboard with one hand, as he stared earnestly out the window.

The lane was deeply rutted, and overgrown with thick branches smacking into the windows. The Sheriff was forced to slow down, lest he damage his vehicle on the deep ruts and potholes scattered among the narrow road.

The Sheriff parked in front of the rundown house, and quickly noticed Jason's black car parked along the side of the house.

"Well, it looks like Jason's here for sure," He said. The Sheriff picked up his radio, and called Parrish. "You'd better get over here," He said, giving him the address. "We're gonna need backup."

Derek looked around. "This place looks deserted. I thought his cousin lived here?" he said.

"He did. The house was put on the market a year ago. It's been a hard sell, what with the condition, and the terrible location. It's pretty remote."

Derek spotted Stiles first. He caught a flash of red hoody in the corner of his eye, and quickly jerked around in his seat to get a better look. It was Stiles, holding onto his side, gasping for breath.

He pulled open his door, and jumped out. "Stiles!" Derek yelled, running to him.

"Are you alright?" Derek asked, checking him over for injuries. He tilted Stiles' face to the side, and took a long look at the bruises, and cut on his scalp.

"Jason's out there! He – has a hatchet!" Stiles gasped, clutching Derek's arm.

"I know," Derek said. "We've been looking for you everywhere. Are you okay?"

Stiles nodded. Derek gave him a relieved smile, and wrapped his jacket around Stiles' shoulders, noticing how much he was shivering. Derek leaned down, and kissed Stiles on the top of his head. Stiles smiled, as Derek pulled him into a hug.

"T-Thanks, Derek," He said, teeth chattering. "Thanks for - being here. I thought I was gonna die." Derek's heart ached,not wanting to admit that he'd thought the exact thing. Grateful Stiles had lived. Survived.

There was a loud sound behind them, and Stiles jumped a mile. He turned around, and froze. Jason stepped out of the woods, glaring at Derek.

"Get away from him!" Jason screamed, as he watched Derek hug Stiles. Jason's face went bright red, as he marched towards them. His eyes bored into Derek's, as he raised the hatchet.

Jason launched himself at the couple. "Get back! Go!" Derek told Stiles. Stiles froze, unable to move. It took Stiles a second to get his feet to cooperate, and he started to back up. Derek's eyes widened, and he roughly shoved Stiles out of the way. Stiles sprawled on his back in the snow. He stared, aghast, as Jason sliced Derek's shoulder with the hatchet. Stiles started screaming in fear until he was hoarse. He scrambled backwards, watching as Derek fell to the ground. Derek threw up his arms to shield his face. Jason brought the axe down again, hitting Derek in the forearm. He raised the hatchet over his head, aiming for Derek's neck.

Deputy Parrish and the Sheriff ran past Stiles, and tackled Jason. He writhed underneath them, trying to break free. Jason screamed obscenities at the two cops, as they pinned him down, and pulled the hatchet out of his grasp.

The Sheriff ran to the car to call an ambulance for Derek. Stiles ran forward, dropping to his knees in the wet snow, and reached for Derek's hand.

"No, please, no." Stiles whispered, as the blood seeped out from Derek's shoulder. The snow was crimson underneath him. He pulled off Derek's jacket, and pressed it against Derek's wounded shoulder.

Parrish pulled Jason to his feet. Stiles watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as he cuffed him. Jason glowered, his eyes never leaving Stiles' face.

"How does it feel, babe?" He asked, giving Stiles a menacing smile. "Can you feel him fading? The love of your life, bleeding to death in your arms. How tragic."

Stiles clutched Derek's hand, as he continued to press down on the wound, trying to staunch the bloodflow. Derek's eyes fluttered, as he tried to keep them focussed. "I feel cold," He whispered.

"We'll get through this," Stiles told him, kissing Derek on the forehead. "Just hang on. The ambulance should be almost here."

Parrish pushed Jason roughly into the backseat of the squad car. He leaned down, and put his hands against the wound. "Here, let me help," He said, taking over. Stiles gave him a grateful look, as he sat back on his heels.

The ambulance arrived, and Stiles watched as the two paramedics loaded Derek onto the gurney.

"It's over," The Sheriff told his son, as Stiles leaned against him. Stiles' arm was aching from where he'd fallen. The Sheriff wanted to pound the crap out of Jason, that little bastard, wanting to see him suffer for the emotional distress he'd put Stiles through.

"Parrish, take Jason to the station and book him," Sheriff Stilinski told him. "I'm taking Stiles to the hospital."

"I wanna ride with Derek," Stiles insisted, following the paramedics. "He needs me."

"Fine," His dad said. "I'll follow in the car. But you _need_ to get looked at. I don't like the look of that cut on your head." The Sheriff told him, pulling into a hug. "I love you, Stiles," He told him, squeezing him tightly.

"Yeah, Dad," Stiles said, closing his eyes. "I know."

"Sir, we need to get to the hospital," The paramedic said, slamming the rear doors shut. "You coming?"

"Go," The Sheriff said, letting go of Stiles. "I'll be right behind you."

Stiles climbed into the back of the ambulance, and grabbed Derek's hand.

"Hey," He said, gently. "It's okay. I'm here."


	21. Hospital visit

Stiles sat down on the examination bench, and tried not to move around too much. He hated the sound of the crinkly paper underneath him, and he felt uncomfortable in just his hospital gown and boxers. He looked up when the door opened, relieved to see Melissa McCall.

"How's my favourite patient?" She asked, giving him a tiny smile. She reached into the jar on the counter, and pulled out a cherry sucker. "Want one?" Melissa asked.

"Okay," He said, feeling a little foolish. Normally, candy was only handed out to little kids to pacify them, and here he was, an eighteen year old adult, holding a sucker in his hand. He watched as Melissa dug through the selection, and pulled out a grape flavoured gumball.

"Yes, they have my favourite!"She unwrapped it, and stuck it in her mouth as she looked through his file. Stiles opened the sucker, and popped it into his mouth.

"How's Derek?" He asked, anxiously. "I asked if I could see him like, an hour ago. They said he was in surgery."

Melissa glanced up. "He had a lot of blood loss, and he had to get a transfusion. But I think he'll pull through. He's going to need a shit ton of stitches, though," She told him, standing up. "When we're through, I can ask if he can have visitors."

Stiles gave her a grateful look. "Thanks, Melissa."

She pulled out a bottle of antiseptic, and a fresh package of bandaids. Melissa carefully peeled back his bandage, and started to clean it up with a q-tip.

"How's your head? Still feeling nauseous?" She asked, as she worked. "Any dizzy spells at all?"

"No."

"Headaches?"

"Not anymore." He told her, truthfully. Stiles took out the sucker, and started to cough, a deep hacking sound. Melissa put her hand on his arm, worried.

"You okay?" She asked. He nodded, his eyes tearing up a little as he continued to cough. Finally, he was able to take a deep breath without feeling that horrible itching feeling in the back of his throat.

"I'm good," Stiles told her, croaking. "I just have a bit of a cold. I'm kind of stuffed up, and my throat's pretty sore."

"I'm sorry for what happened to you," Melissa told him, giving him a sympathetic look. "Jason was a bad apple. I hope you never have to go through a relationship like that again."

"Me too," Stiles said, seriously, rolling the sucker around with his tongue. He tried not to pull away from her as she worked. His wound stung painfully, as she cleaned it out.

"I'm almost done," She told him, as she swabbed the q-tip in peroxide, and rolled it against the edge of his wound. It fizzed. Melissa picked up the band-aid, and removed the wrapper. She gently placed it over his wound, and sat back.

"All done," She said. Stiles felt relieved.

"Can I see him now? I wanna talk to Derek," He told her, urgently.

She stood up. "I'll leave you to get dressed," Melissa told him, stepping out into the hall. He wriggled back into his jeans and t-shirt, and dropped the blue gown onto the chair. Stiles pulled on his hoody, and opened the door.

"Come on, let's go see if he's ready for visitors," Melissa said, linking her arm around his as they walked down the hallway. Sheriff Stilinski was sitting in the hallway, filling out a stack of paperwork.

"How'd it go?" He asked. "Is Stiles okay?"

"He'll be fine. The MRI showed he has no swelling at all. Apart from a head cold, I'd say Stiles here is one lucky guy." Melissa gave him a grin. "I'll be right back, guys."

Stiles sat beside his dad in the waiting room, sipping the cup of burnt coffee his dad had placed in his hands.

"Do you think Derek's gonna be okay?" Stiles asked, worried. _It's all my fault_, he thought. _If I had just told someone I was driving to Harrison that day, If I'd never met with Jason for coffee, If I had just never dated Jason in the first place, then Derek wouldn't be in surgery right now. He'd be alive and well. _

The Sheriff looked over at his son, and saw the troubled look on his face. He sighed.

"Stiles, Derek's gonna be fine," He said, confidently. The Sheriff hoped that he wouldn't be proven wrong.

"It's all my fault," Stiles answered, barely able to look his dad in the eyes. "He's gonna hate me, isn't he?"

He put a hand on the back of Stiles' chair, and leaned closer to him. "None of this is your fault. Jason did this, not you. He's a little creep, and he hurt you and Derek. Derek's not going to hate you. "

"I'm so sorry, Dad. I should've told you I was going out to Harrison, and I should have never dated Jason," He said, mournfully. The scalding cup of coffee was warming up his hands considerably, but he couldn't bring himself to drink it. His mind was reeling with the fact that Derek had nearly bled out because of his own idiotic actions. "I nearly got him killed."

"_Jason_ nearly got him killed." The Sheriff said. "Stiles, as soon as Derek found out you were in trouble, he left work and helped me for hours trying to find you. He wasn't gonna give up until you were safe. And when Derek saw Jason running at him, he pushed you out of the way, before ensuring his own safety. He wanted to make sure you weren't hurt. He doesn't hate you. He loves you."

Melissa walked back to the Stilinski's. "You can see him now," She said. "But only for a few minutes. He's on alot of pain medication right now."

Stiles jumped up, and followed her. It was strange seeing Derek lying on the hospital bed – he looked so small. Stiles rushed to his side, and grabbed Derek's hand, clutching it tightly. Derek opened his eyes, groggy from the pain medication.

"Hey," He said, giving Stiles a small smile. Derek was very pale, with bags under his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered. "Please don't be mad at me."

Derek gave him a confused look, and he tried to sit up in the bed. Stiles gently pushed him back down.

"What? Why would I be mad at you?" He asked, eyebrows knitted together on his forehead, as Stiles quickly reached for the controls and raised the bed for Derek.

"Well, duh. My ex boyfriend attacked you with a weapon, and you nearly died." Stiles said, sarcastically. "And it's not like I even did anything to stop him. I was just lying in the snow, watching it all happen. Like a douche. You could've died, and I'm just lying there."

Derek laughed. "Stiles, I'm not mad at you. I'm glad you're alive. I pushed you into the snow to make sure you didn't get hit by Jason. Who, by the way, is one persistent asshole. I was scared he was going to kill you," Derek said.

"He tried. Jason told me he was going to kill me, and he wanted me to fall in the thin ice. He also told me he was going to bury me in the woods," Stiles told him, eyes welling up. He looked away from Derek. "I thought I was going to end up six feet under for sure."

Derek reached out, and gently touched Stiles' cheek. "Hey, hey," Derek said, quietly. "Don't be sad. C'mon, everything's okay."

Stiles gave him a tiny smile, as he squeezed Derek's hand.


	22. Go Fish

The nurse came in to check up on Derek. Stiles sat back in his seat, and watched as she looked at Derek's wounds, and took his blood pressure, and heart rate.

"Looks like you're doing good, Derek," the nurse told him. "You need to rest, though. I'm going to give you a sedative to help you sleep."

Stiles sat up straighter in his seat. He wanted to keep Derek company through the night, make sure he was okay. He reached for Derek's hand and squeezed it, as he apprehensively watched the nurse give Derek a sedative. Derek smiled briefly at Stiles, as he closed his eyes. His grip went slack, as he drifted off to sleep.

"Can I stay with him tonight?" Stiles asked, watching the nurse intently. "Please?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but you need to go now. Why don't you get yourself home, and come back in the morning for visiting hours? Your dad's waiting in the hallway. You look like you could use some sleep as well."

Stiles reluctantly let go of Derek's hand, and stood up. The nurse led him outside. His dad was talking to Deputy Parrish, and Melissa McCall. He curled up in the uncomfortable hospital chair, as he waited for his dad to finish up. He'd been at the hospital for hours with his dad, and he'd barely had any sleep. His eyelids started to droop, as he listened to the nurses pushing the carts through the hallways.

"Hey," Parrish said, sitting beside him. Stiles opened his eyes, and gave him a sleepy look.

"Hi. Thanks for saving Derek," He said, giving the Deputy an appreciative smile.

"No problem. Just doing my job." Parrish told him, shrugging.

"I mean it," Stiles said. "I thought I was going to get hacked to death, and buried in the woods. I was so glad to see you guys at the house. I thought I was in the clear, until Jason attacked him. He could've died, but thanks to you and my dad, he's gonna be okay."

"I'm glad you are okay," Parrish said. "How's Derek doing? Have the nurses let you in to see him yet?"

"Yeah," Stiles said. "Melissa got me in to see him. He's sleeping right now, they gave him a sedative. The nurse said I had to come back tomorrow." He said, unhappily. "I was hoping to stay the night, but when I asked, they said no."

Sheriff Stilinski walked over. "Stiles, you ready to go?" He asked. Stiles nodded, and stood up.

When they got home, Stiles went straight to his room. He stripped down to his boxers, and slid under his blankets. His trapped body heat under his thick covers made it especially toasty. Stiles gave a small smile, as he buried his face in his pillow. He was so glad to be home.

Stiles woke up at nearly noon. Rigby was curled up on top of his feet, and she barked excitedly when he opened his eyes. Stiles reached down and patted her on the head.

"Hey," He said, smiling. She jumped off the bed, and scratched at the closed bedroom door. Stiles pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, and let her out into the backyard. He opened the deep freeze, and started to dig through the contents. He was starving. Stiles pulled out a pack of hot dogs, and a bag of crinkly fries.

"Dad! I'm making lunch!" Stiles called out. He heard a muffled answer from the living room, so he proceeded to rip open the bag and dump them onto a baking sheet. He put the food in the oven, and went in search of his dad.

"Hey, I thought you were getting early today to go see Derek," Sheriff Stilinski said, surprised, as he looked down at his watch.

"I was," Stiles told him, flopping down on the couch. "I forgot to set my alarm."

The Sheriff glanced around, and sniffed the air. "Food smells good," He said. "What'd you make?"

"Hot dogs and fries," Stiles told him, watching the TV.

"What, no veggies?" the Sheriff asked. "Aren't you normally the one who frowns on my poor eating habits?"

"We'll have salad tomorrow," Stiles said, tiredly. Even after he'd slept for a solid, uninterrupted ten hours, his brain still had that fuzzy feeling from staying up too late, making it impossible to focus on anything.

Stiles yawned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Can we go to the hospital after we eat?"

His dad nodded. "Yeah, of course," He said. "I have to get to work, but I'll take up there on my way to the station."

Derek was awake when Stiles walked into his hospital room. He was watching the news, as he absently picked at the bandage on his arm. Stiles set the bouquet of flowers on the tray, and sat down beside him.

"Feeling better, today?" Stiles asked. "It's warmer out there –the snow is nearly all melted away."

Derek gave him a smile, as he watched Stiles move forward in his seat. He pulled out a deck of cards, and slowly started to shuffle them.

"My shoulder is aching. Thank God for the medication they have me on." He moved his head to the side and stared out the window. The rain was hitting the glass, making long tracks down the window.

"Good news is, the nurses said I'd probably be out of here by tomorrow," Derek said, watching the raindrops form. His eyes met Stiles', and he gave a tiny smile. "How have you been holding up?"

Stiles shrugged. "I'm alive."

Derek gave him a concerned look. "You wanna talk about what happened?"

"Not really, no."

"Ok."

"What I'd really like to do, is play a game of cards. Keep my mind busy so I _don't _have to think about what happened," Stiles said, handing Derek a few cards.

"What game are we playing?" Derek asked. "Poker? Cheat?"

"Go Fish," Stiles said, grinning. "Got any two's?"

"Nope."

"C'mon," Stiles pleaded.

"Go fish, Stiles." Derek told him. "Out of all the card games out there, you had to pick the lamest one ever. Congrats, buddy."

Stiles smirked at him. "I believe it's your turn, big guy."


	23. Staying the night

The next morning, Stiles was lying in bed when he heard the doorbell rang. He put his laptop on the floor, and sat up. Rigby's ears perked up as she cocked her head to the side. Rigby jumped off the bed, and ran to the front door.

"I'm coming!" Stiles called out, running down the stairs. He opened the door, and gaped open-mouthed in surprise. Derek stood on the front steps, grinning. He reached down, and patted Rigby on the head. Her tail thumped against the floorboards.

"Derek? What are you doing here?" He asked, stepping back and letting Derek in. "I thought you were still at the hospital."

"Checked myself out. I was feeling a lot better." He said, taking off his jacket.

"Did you have breakfast yet?" Stiles asked. "I'm starving."

Derek nodded. "I had a muffin at the hospital."

"Okay, well, I'm going to make some food. I can make you some too." He disappeared into the kitchen, and put the kettle on. Stiles made a box of kraft dinner, and two mugs of hot chocolate.

"We're out of marshmallows, sorry," He said apologetically, handing the mug to Derek. He shrugged.

"That's okay."

Stiles sat down beside Derek, their hands wrapped around the mugs of hot chocolate.

"How's your shoulder?" Stiles asked, noticing how Derek winced when he moved.

"Better. Still hurts."

"Sorry."

"Don't be." Derek told him, taking a sip. He glanced around the quiet living room, the only sound was the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall. He spotted the shelf of taped-up board games, and turned to Stiles.

"Wanna play scrabble?" Derek asked. "I haven't played that in a while."

Stiles perked up. "Sure," He said, grabbing the box off the shelf. Stiles brought the game to the kitchen table, and sat down. He pulled out the board, and started to set up the game. Stiles passed the bag of tiles to Derek.

"You go first," He said, as Derek sat down beside him.

Hours later, Stiles and Derek curled up under blankets on the couch, and watched TV. The room smelled faintly of hickory from the flickering candle, and it reminded Stiles of bonfire smoke. He took a deep breath.

"Derek," He said, his eyes closed. "I was wondering – do you want to stay the night? It's freezing out, and you could crash here."

Derek's mouth twitched upwards, as he looked down at Stiles. "It's not even _that _cold," He said, amused. "It's only a half hour drive back to Harrison."

"_But baby, it's cold outside_," Stiles sung, smirking. Derek kissed him, and snuggled closer to Stiles under the blanket.

"You really using the cold weather as an excuse to keep me here longer?" Derek asked him, playing with Stiles' hair. "I love you, Stiles."

Stiles opened his eyes, and glanced up at Derek. "And I love you, Der." He said, with a contented sigh. "Does this mean you're gonna stay?" He asked, hopefully.

"Sure," He said. "I'd rather stay here with you, anyday."

When the Sheriff walked in the door, he was surprised to see Derek and Stiles passed out on the couch. Stiles was sprawled across Derek's chest, arms wrapped around Derek's torso. The Sheriff picked up the blanket off the floor, and tucked it around them. He was glad to see his son sleep so peacefully, no nightmares tonight. He flicked off the TV, and went upstairs to his bedroom.

The Sheriff got up early the next morning to make breakfast. He didn't have to work, since it was his day off. He took the package of back bacon out of the fridge, and cut off a few generous slices. He dropped them into the frying pan, and listened as they started to sizzle. It smelled incredible. He stuck two pieces of bread into the toaster, and set the plates on the table. The Sheriff stuck his head into the living room, and cleared his throat.

"Boys, you hungry?" He asked, grinning. Derek sleepily opened his eyes, and looked around.

"What time is it?" He asked.

"Ten AM."

Stiles moved his head to the side. "Don't move, Derek," He mumbled. "I'm so comfy."

Derek started to extricate himself from Stiles' limbs, but quickly stopped as Stiles wrapped his arms tighter around Derek's chest.

"Not yet," He said. "Five more minutes."

The Sheriff rolled his eyes, as Derek settled back onto the couch.

"Food's getting cold!" The Sheriff told them, giving Derek a piteous look. The older man looked comically trapped.

"We'll be there soon_, won't we_, Stiles?" Derek laughed, looking down at him.

"If we have to," Stiles groaned. His body felt nice entangled with Derek's, and it was comforting to hear Derek's steady heartbeat through his shirt. He felt safe, and warm. If he could stay there forever, he would.

Derek sat up, and threw the blanket to the floor.

"Let's go, Stiles," Derek told him, pulling him to his feet. They joined Sheriff Stilinski at the table. His dad laughed at the sight of his son's tousled hair.

"Nice bedhead," he said, placing the bacon on Stiles' plate.

"What? I just woke up."

When they were done, Derek asked Stiles if he wanted to go for a walk. They took Rigby to the dog park, and watched as she slobbered over the yellow tennis ball. Stiles threw it across the grass, and watched as Rigby bounced excitedly after it.

"She's getting so big," Derek commented. "Rigby's not the tiny puppy anymore."

"She eats too much." Stiles said, reaching over and grabbing Derek's gloved hand.

"You work tonight?"Stiles asked.

"Yeah," Derek said. "I should probably get back to Harrison. I need a shower, and change of clothes. My shift starts at four."

Stiles whistled for Rigby, and they started walking home. It was a frosty morning, their breath hung in the air like crystallized clouds. Stiles tugged his hat further down his ears, and stamped his feet to keep them from freezing.

"I have a day off tomorrow," Derek told him. "Want to go out for dinner?"

Stiles smiled, getting a warm feeling in his stomach. "Of course," He said.

"Pick you up at eight?" He asked. Derek kissed him, one hand gently lifting Stiles' chin as they kissed.

"Okay," Stiles told him, wrapping his arms around Derek, almost bowling him over.


	24. Flashback

Stiles sat at the restaurant, nervously toying with his cloth napkin. It was 8:40, according to his phone, and he wondered where Derek was. It wasn't like him to be late.

"Another glass of wine?" The waiter asked him, and Stiles nodded. He watched the man fill up his glass.

"Are you ready to order this evening, Sir?" The waiter asked him, glancing at the empty seat across from Stiles. "Or should we wait another few minutes for your friend?"

"I'll wait, thanks," Stiles said, opening his menu. He scanned the list of items for the twentieth time, and bit his bottom lip. He flipped open his phone, and saw a new text message from Derek.

'_Got held up, will be there soon. Order for both of us. –Derek.'_

Stiles signalled for the waiter, and ordered two sirloin steaks, and a glass of red wine for Derek. He was glad to see Derek rush into the restaurant, and make a beeline for their table.

"Sorry I'm late," Derek said, kissing his cheek. He sat down across from Stiles, and took off his jacket. "Got held up in traffic. There was a car accident on the highway, a truck went off the road."

"Was anyone hurt?" Stiles asked, concerned.

Derek shrugged. "I don't know." He said. "Did you order already?"

"Yeah. Steak okay?"

Derek smiled. "Sounds great."

Stiles lifted his wine glass, and clinked it against Derek's. "To us," He said, taking a sip.

"To us," Derek echoed.

After their date, Stiles and Derek went back to the Stilinski residence. They watched a movie with the Sheriff, then called it a night.

"Maybe I should just move to Beacon Hills," Derek joked, as he stripped out of his shirt and jeans. "I spend more time at your house then at my own apartment."

Stiles smirked at him. He laid against the pillows, watching Derek undress. His mouth dropping open slightly at the sight of Derek's bare chest, as he watched him peel the thin t-shirt over his head.

"You'd have to talk to my dad if you're gonna move in," Stiles told him, as Derek laid down beside him. "But I'm sure he wouldn't mind – he likes you."

Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles, and put his chin on the top of Stiles' head.

"Night, Stiles," He said, closing his eyes.

The next morning, Stiles woke up to an empty bed. He got dressed, and went downstairs. Derek was sitting at the kitchen table, working on the newspaper crossword. His fingers lightly tapping on the tabletop, to the country radio station playing on the stereo.

"Want a grilled cheese sandwich?" Stiles asked, as he glanced over at him. Derek looked up, and smiled.

"Sure, thanks," He said.

Stiles took out the loaf of bread, and the block of cheese from the fridge. He turned on the front element, and dug out the frying pan from the cupboard.

"What's an eight letter word for obstinate?" He asked.

"Stubborn."

"Oh, right. Thanks."

Stiles slathered the bread with margarine, and reached for the cheese. He raised the knife, and cut off a few slices. Stiles laid the sandwich onto the frying pan, and started to make Derek's.

"Ouch," He said, looking down at his hand. There were a few droplets of blood on his palm from where he'd cut himself on the sharp blade. He stared at his hand.

_Blood spurting from Derek's shoulder, as the hatchet sliced through his shirt._ Stiles' hand was shaking, and he nearly dropped the knife into the sink. _He heard the crunch of Jason's nose break, as the blood splashed onto his hands_. He groaned involuntarily, feeling light-headed. Stiles dropped the knife into the sink, the clattering sound made Derek look up sharply. He saw the stricken look on Stiles' face, and quickly jumped up.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked him, watching him carefully. "Stiles, what's wrong?"

"I – I don't know," Stiles said. He stared out the kitchen window, not seeing the backyard or the next-door neighbour's fence. The window was cracked open, and the frigid air blasted against Stiles' exposed skin.

_He could smell the crisp, winter air. He heard the crunch of dead leaves and fresh snow under his sneakers. Jason was behind him. Stiles could hear him screaming, and he turned around. Jason was getting closer. His heart pounding, Stiles ran through the woods. _

"_I'm going to fucking kill you!" Jason screamed, clutching the hatchet tightly in his hand._

"_Get away from me!" Stiles screamed. He nearly lost his footing, as he stumbled on a tree root .He felt Jason wrapping his hands around his neck, and Stiles desperately fought back. _

"NO!" Stiles screamed, as Derek grabbed his shoulder. He jerked away, terrified.

"Stiles!" Derek said, raising his voice.

Stiles' mind cleared, and he was surprised to find himself still standing in the middle of the kitchen. Panting, his hands were raised to protect his face. He could feel hot tears running down his face.

"Stiles," Derek whispered. "What happened?"

Stiles stared around the kitchen, wide-eyed, a loud ringing in his ears. He could barely hear Derek's voice, it sounded quiet, like he was far away.

"Stiles, what just happened? Are you okay?" Derek repeated, watching his boyfriend as he slowly lowered his hands. He wiped the tears off his cheeks, unsure what to say. He fought to find his voice.

"I don't- I just-!" Stiles stuttered, ashamed. He couldn't explain to Derek what had happened, not when he didn't fully understand it himself.

"Talk to me, please," Derek begged, blinking back tears. "Are you okay?"

Stiles nodded, slowly. "Yeah," He whispered, barely audible. He stared down at his bloodied hand, before wiping the blood onto his jeans in disgust. The cut on his palm stung a little, and Stiles focussed on the pain, as he listened to Derek's calming voice.

"What was that?" Derek asked. "Stiles, please."

"I was in the woods," Stiles told him, wrapping his arms around himself. "Jason was there. He was gonna kill me." He could feel himself start to shake, and Stiles sat down on the kitchen floor.

"I'm sorry," Stiles muttered, as he drew his knees up to his chest. "I think it was a flashback or something."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Derek suggested, turning off the element. He sat down a few feet away from Stiles. Derek hesitantly reached out to touch Stiles' hand. Stiles froze, confused by the sudden burst of fear and panic he felt when Derek reached out to him. He _loved_ Derek. Why would he feel so terrible at his touch? Something must be wrong with him. He felt broken.

Derek tried to hide the hurt in his eyes, tried to keep his voice low to keep Stiles calm. "What did it feel like?" Derek asked him, pulling his hand away from Stiles.

"Like a fucking nightmare."

"Could you hear me talking to you?" Derek asked. "Could you see the woods, or me?"

"The woods," Stiles said, hollowly.

Stiles was relieved that Derek kept his distance, didn't try to touch him again. He didn't think he could handle it. Stiles' heart was still pounding, and he wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans.

"Is there anything I can do?" Derek asked him.

"I dunno," He whispered, scared. He could feel Jason's phantom hands on his body, dragging him to the pond. Stiles dug his nails into his arm, tearing at the skin until it was raw.

"Stiles, stop!" Derek said, grabbing his wrist. Stiles looked down, and was surprised to see that he'd drawn blood. It felt like he was scratching the skin clean off, until he could no longer feel Jason's touch.

"Maybe I should call your dad," Derek said, nervously. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Stiles nodded, numb. "I'm fine. Don't call him. He'll only get worried."

"Of course he will, he's your dad."

"Don't tell him. I'll be fine." Stiles took a shuddering breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves. "Just give me a minute."

Stiles got up off the floor, and stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around Derek, and sagged against him.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said, quietly, as Derek wrapped his arms around him.

"Stiles, are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Derek asked, as Stiles grabbed a fistful of Derek's shirt, and closed his eyes.

"I don't know," Stiles admitted.


	25. Court date

Stiles sat in the passenger seat of his dad's squad car, and stared out the window as he listened to the chatter on the radio. It crackled loudly, and Stiles turned down the volume a notch.

"So, why did you want me to go driving with you, again?" Stiles asked, turning to his dad. He picked up the hot chocolate from the cup holder, and took a gulp. "It's way too early."

"Eight in the morning," The Sheriff said, raising his eyebrows. "Is not early, for normal people."

"It is for me," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. He was glad that the weather was starting to warm up. It was mid-February, and patches of brown grass showed through the melting snow.

"What, I can't just take you out for a drive without having an ulterior motive?" His dad asked.

"Do you?"

The Sheriff sighed, and pulled over to the side of the road. "Stiles, I need to talk to you about what happened with Jason."

"I don't want to." Stiles groaned. "Can't we just pretend it never happened?"

"Son, this is important. We need to talk about his court case. Jason went to his first court appearance a few days ago, and pleaded not guilty." His dad said, raising his voice over the squawking radio.

Stiles looked surprised. "He pleaded not guilty? Seriously?"

"Apparently, Jason told his lawyer that you were the one being violent towards him," The Sheriff said, sadly. "Jason showed him pictures of bruises, and a broken nose that you gave him. He's alleging that you trained Rigby to attack him if he didn't comply, and that you were consistently emotionally abusive towards the end of the relationship."

"That's a lie. I was never emotionally abusive towards him. And we both know Rigby would never hurt a soul. She's completely harmless. Rigby would be the worst guard dog on the planet," Stiles grimaced, as he burnt his tongue on the hot chocolate. "I did break his nose, though. And I hit him in the throat, but that was in self-defence. But that's only because he tried to force me into having sex with him." Stiles looked down when he said that, trying to avoid his dad's gaze. He didn't want his dad to see the pain and disgust reflected in his eyes, as he remembered how Jason had treated him.

Stiles knew his dad was fully aware of what had happened between him and Jason. The Sheriff had personally read the detailed police report, and his son's victim impact statement. Stiles knew his dad had photocopies of the file locked in his bottom desk drawer, including the pictures of Stiles' injuries. He'd been completely honest with his dad, not skipping on any of the details. Stiles figured that his dad had a right to know what happened, as his father, and as the Sheriff.

"I _really_ don't wanna talk about Jason, okay?" Stiles said, annoyed. "He's been haunting my nightmares every night. I managed to get away from him, but I'll never fully be rid of him."

"I thought you told me you stopped having nightmares," The Sheriff said, surprised. "I told Derek to keep me updated if they started up again."

"Yeah, well, he's not in my bed every night, is he?" Stiles pointed out, snarkily. "I didn't tell you, because I didn't want to worry you any more than you had to."

"_Stiles_."

"_Dad_."

"You need to tell me these things."

"What do you wanna know? That I'm forced to dream of him murdering you and Derek on a nightly basis? Or that on some nights, my brain varies it up, and I have to suffer through Jason murdering Scott and Isaac? That I wake up sobbing into my pillow? Or how about the time that I had a flashback last month, and thought I was still in the woods?" Stiles ranted, waving his hands dramatically. "How's that for sharing?"

"Ah, crap," The Sheriff said. "Stiles, I wanna kill that little bastard with my bare hands. It drives me nuts that he's attempting to play the victim card, and blemishing your reputation. The trial is set for March sixteenth. That little punk better not try and worm his way out this. I want him to rot in jail for as long as possible."

"Am I gonna have to testify? I don't want to be anywhere near Jason for the rest of my life."

"Most likely, yeah you will." The Sheriff said, as he started up the car. "We're going to be meeting with the lawyer next week."

Stiles rolled over, and scrubbed his eyes with his hand. He could feel Derek's slow, even breathing as he laid his head on Derek's chest. Derek's eyes were closed. His warm fingers grazed Derek's bare stomach, lightly prodding him.

"Derek," Stiles whispered. "Can I talk to you?"

Stiles could see Derek's eyes slowly move around under his eyelids, and Stiles found himself wondering what Derek was dreaming about_. _He reached down, and grabbed the spare blanket from the foot of the bed, and pulled it up to his neck. He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

"_I will murder you," Jason threatened, taking a step forward. Stiles backed up until he was standing on the edge of the frozen pond. He looked down, and saw something under the ice. Stiles knelt down, and wiped the layer of fresh snow away. He gagged, as he stared at Derek's frozen body. His blank eyes stared up at Stiles, blue-tinged lips and skin. It looked like he'd tried to scratch his way through the thick barrier with his bloodied hands, trying desperately to get air in his lungs._

"_You did this to him!" Stiles screamed, barely able to see Jason through his tears. "You psychotic asshole!"_

"_He deserved it," Jason hissed at him, pulling him to his feet. Jason grabbed him by the arm, and shoved him onto the thinner ice. "And so do you."_

_Stiles heard the ice crack, and he was plunged into the icy water. He gasped involuntarily, breathing in a mouthful of water. His lungs burned, as he thrashed, trying to fight his way to the surface. He could see Jason staring down at him, grinning. Stiles kicked his legs, feeling the plants tangle around his feet. He was starting to panic, as he tried to disentangle himself. Out of oxygen, Stiles opened his mouth, and sucked in a mouthful of ice water._

"Stiles, wake up!" Derek said, frantically trying to hold his arms, as Stiles flailed against him. Derek narrowly avoided getting hit in the face, as Stiles lashed out. Derek put his full weight on Stiles' chest, pinning him to the mattress. Stiles' eyes flew open in a panic, as he stared at Derek in shock. His dad was standing in the doorway, watching his son with concern.

The Sheriff sat on the edge of the bed, and wrapped his arms around Stiles as he started to cry. "Hey, it's okay. It's just a nightmare. We're both alive," He said comfortingly, as he patted his son on the back. He could feel Stiles trembling a little, as he slowly rocked him.

"What were you dreaming about?" Derek asked, putting a hand on Stiles' shoulder.

"I was drowning in the pond," Stiles told him, taking a deep breath. "You'd gone through the ice, and I found your body. Then I was trying to fight my way to the surface, but I was trapped." He could still feel the icy water in his lungs, his feet tangled in the bottom of the pond. Stiles shivered.


	26. The house in the woods

"I wanna take you somewhere special when you're done breakfast," Derek said, as he reached for the carton of orange juice. He filled his glass, and watched as Stiles picked at his plate of pancakes.

"I don't want to go anywhere today," Stiles said, grumpily. "I'm exhausted, and I'll probably go back to bed for a few hours."

"You need to get out of the house for awhile," Derek said. "Get some fresh air."

"No, I don't." Stiles argued, giving Derek a sarcastic smirk. "I'm perfectly fine staying indoors until summer gets here. As long as I got my computer, and some food, I'll be fine."

"Would you just do this for me? Please?" Derek asked. "This is really important to me. As soon as we're done, you can come back home and crash for the rest of the day."

"Ugghhh," Stiles groaned, cutting off a piece of bacon and spearing it with his fork. "Where do you suggest we go? Do you have somewhere in mind?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, then." Stiles said, tiredly.

"Somewhere," Derek said, evasively. He stood up, and started to clear the table.

"The movies?" Stiles suggested. "Or the liquor store?"

"Nope," Derek said, pulling on his leather jacket. "Now, get your shoes and coat on. I'll be in the Jeep."

After driving around town for nearly an hour, Stiles started to get annoyed. Derek was still refusing to tell him where they were headed. He'd made Stiles stop at the theatre, the mall, and the pharmacy.

"This is your surprise? A trip to Walgreen's?" Stiles asked, unimpressed. He parked the Jeep, and started to open the door.

"Psyche. This isn't our location, either." Derek told him, straight-faced. "Keep driving."

Stiles groaned. "Dude, will you just tell me where I'm supposed to be going? I'm the driver, I ought to know the destination."

"The Preserve, Stiles."

"I'm not going to the woods," Stiles told him, stubbornly.

"Our destination is in the woods. Hey, you asked!" Derek said, laughing as Stiles playfully smacked in the arm.

They drove out to the Beacon Hills Preserve, and Stiles parked his Jeep. He hopped out, and slammed the door.

"You gonna tell me what we're doing out here?" Stiles asked. He was feeling irritable, and exhausted from only having a few hours sleep the night before. He followed behind Derek, uneasily staring around the woods.

"You know I don't want to be out here, in the woods," Stiles said, anxiously. "It reminds me too much of when I almost got killed."

"I know, but this is really important. Come on." Derek urged, as he strode on. Stiles noticed that Derek seemed completely at ease in the forest, as he purposefully led the way.

"You know these woods pretty good, huh?" Stiles said, catching up to him.

"Yeah," Derek said. "We're almost there."

They walked into a clearing, and Stiles stared up at the burnt-out husk of a three storey house. It looked like it could have been really nice, at one point. The walls were blackened, and the upper floor was missing most of its roof.

"Jesus," Stiles whispered. "I wonder who used to live here?"

"I did," Derek said, his hands in his pockets. He was quietly staring at the house, a strange expression on his face.

"Dude, you lived here, in the woods?" Stiles said, surprised. Derek nodded.

Derek looked at him. "Do you remember when I told you months ago that I used to live in Beacon Hills? This was my family's property."

"I lived with my Mom, and sisters. I had cousins, and an Uncle." Derek said. "A few years ago, there was an electrical fire. It happened when me and my sister were at school."

Stiles looked up at him. "Did your family get out in time?" he asked cautiously, watching Derek's face. He could see the pain in Derek's eyes, as he stared at the looming property.

"No." Derek said, bitterly. "They didn't."

He leaned against him. "I'm sorry," Stiles whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't like to talk about it." Derek said, leaning down to kiss Stiles on the top of his head. "I haven't been home for years. Too many memories. I'd been avoiding this place for years, so I didn't have to face the past. I thought today would be as good as any to finally hike out here."

"Do you get nightmares like I do?" Stiles asked.

"I used to," He said, quietly. "Not as much anymore."

"Bad ones?"

"When I was a teen, I had nightmares nearly every night. It messed me up. I was always exhausted, and I could barely concentrate on my schoolwork. That, and the constant anxiety, I was a wreck."

"What happened?" Stiles asked.

"A lot of therapy. My sister, Laura, hired some of the best psychologists in the state. It took me a long time to work through my issues."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"She lives in New York. I haven't seen her in two years."

"You guys close?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah, pretty close." Derek stepped forward. "Come with me," He said, as he walked up the rotted porch. He nudged open the red paint-chipped door with his foot, and stepped inside the house. Derek took a deep breath, as his eyes skimmed over the set of stairs leading to the upper levels. In his head, he could still hear his cousins running through the estate, weaving around the adults.

"We don't have to do this," Stiles said, squeezing his hand. "If it's too hard for you, we could just go."

"No. I want to be here." Derek told him, reaching out and touching the familiar wallpaper. "I need to do this."

Stiles let go of Derek's hand, and cautiously started to wander the first floor of the house. The place was in shambles, and he suspected that animals had taken up residence in a few of the rooms.

"It's getting torn down next week," Derek called out from the living room. "There was an article in the paper this morning."

"Can't you stop them? It's your house." Stiles asked, walking back to him. Derek was sitting on an old, antique couch in the centre of the room.

"The county took over the property a few years back. So, technically, we're trespassing right now." Derek said. "I guess I just needed to see it one last time, to say goodbye."


	27. The Trial

"I don't think I can do this," Stiles said, biting on his thumbnail. He'd bitten it down to the quick, the ragged skin bleeding slightly. "I'm so fucking anxious, Der."

Derek sat down on the couch, and watched as Stiles paced the room. They were both dressed for court, in their ties, and button-up shirts.

"I'm nervous, okay?" Stiles said, anxiously. "I don't have any idea what I'm going to say when I get called on today. I don't wanna take the stand."

"Calm down, Stiles. You'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say. You're not even the slightest bit scared."

"Of course I'm scared," Derek told him. "Going to court is a terrifying experience. But that's why we practised with the lawyer, and your dad. You'll do fine, trust me."

The Sheriff walked in, wearing his suit jacket, and brown slacks. "You boys ready?" He asked, adjusting Stiles' crooked tie.

"I guess so," Stiles said.

"All rise!"

Everyone stood up, as Judge Hawkins took his seat. Stiles recognized the Judge as the same man who'd handed out the restraining order against Jason two months ago. He was sitting with Derek and Scott on one side, Melissa and his dad on the other side. Joel Smith, the lawyer his dad had hired, smiled encouragingly at him.

When it was his turn to go up and testify, he got sworn in and took his seat. His hands were sweating, as he listened to the questions. He answered as truthfully a he could. At one point, Stile glanced over, and saw Jason was glaring at him. He gulped, and continued talking.

"Can you tell the court when Jason started physically assaulting you?" The lawyer asked.

"A few days after I moved in with him in September," Stiles told the lawyer. "After he left, I packed up my stuff, then I tried to find my phone. I was going to call my dad."

"Then what happened, Mr. Stilinski?"

"He came back." Stiles looked away from Jason. "Jason apologized, and I decided to stay."

"Why did you stay?"

"Because I still loved him, and it was the middle of the night. I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Not Derek's?"

Stiles shook his head. "I didn't know him yet."

"Did you at any time ever strike, or threaten to hurt Jason?"

"Yes." Stiles said. "I broke his nose, and hit him in the throat when he tried to rape me. If I hadn't, I believe he would've killed me."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because that's what he said he'd do. Jason said he'd bury me in the woods behind his cousin's house, and let the animals eat me so my dad would have nothing left to bury."

"When did you start dating Derek?"

"January."

"How many times approximately has Derek hit you, or threatened you with physical violence?"

"None," Stiles said.

"And how many times has Jason hit you, or threatened you with physical violence?"

"I don't know exactly. Maybe fifty times, at least?" He said, sitting back in his seat.

"The night of December tenth, could you please tell the court what happened in your own words?" The lawyer asked.

Stiles recounted everything that had happened, including Jason attacking him outside after he broke up with him. Stiles could feel Jason's eyes, boring into him, daring him to look at him. Stiles met his gaze head-on, emotions drained, as he described the incident.

"As you can see from these photographs, your Honour, Jason Brightley left bruises on my client's neck, arms and torso," The lawyer told the judge, handing him the folder. He waited while the Judge looked through the photographs.

"That's a lie!" Jason shouted, standing up. "I never hurt him!"

Jason's lawyer, Brigham, put a hand on his shoulder, and pushed him down in his seat.

"Please control your client's outbursts!" The Judge said, sternly.

He was asked about the car crash, and being kidnapped by Jason. About what happened in the woods, and how Jason attacked Derek. Some of the questions were exhausting, having to recall incidents, times and places things occurred. It took forever. Finally, though, he was finished. Stiles went, and sat down beside his dad.

"You did good," His dad told him. "I'm so proud of you."

Stiles watched as Melissa, Deputy Parrish, Seth, and his dad were called up as witness. Then, it was Derek's turn. Derek stood up, and walked to the front of the court. He got sworn in, and took his seat. He was questioned by Stiles' lawyer, then it was the defence's turn.

"Please state your name for the courts," the lawyer said.

"Derek Hale."

"Mr. Hale, what is your relationship with my client?"

"He started frequenting the bar with his boyfriend, Jason Brightley."

"And now you're dating him?"

"That's correct."

"When did you start dating Mr. Stilinski?"

"Three months ago."

"While Stiles was dating Mr. Brightley, did you ever see either of them act abusive or violent towards each other?"

Derek leaned forward. "Yes, I did."

"Please tell the court what you witnessed."

Derek caught Stiles' eye for a brief second, before looking away. "I saw Jason hurt Stiles on numerous occasions, and yell insults at him while I was bartending. I started to watch out for him during my shifts, because I was worried for Stiles' safety. I witnessed Jason choke Stiles after one of my shifts, and I intervened. I also saw Jason grab Stiles after he'd gotten a restraining order against him."

"When they were dating, did you have feelings for Stiles?" The lawyer asked.

"Objection! Relevance." Stiles' lawyer called out.

The Judge leaned forward, and stared at the defence lawyer. "Brigham, what's your point?"

"I'm just trying to determine if Derek had feelings for Stiles, while Stiles was still dating Jason."

"That's not what we're trying to determine. This is about the alleged abuse between Stiles and Jason." The Judge reminded him.

"And my client believes that Stiles is the aggressor in nearly every incident."

"Brigham, please continue with your line of questioning."

"Strike the question. " Brigham told the court reporter. "Please continue, Derek."

Stiles met Derek's gaze, and nodded slightly at him. Continue.

"Why did you suggest to Stiles that he stay at your apartment, if you claim that you did not have feelings for him at that time?"

"I barely knew him. But given what I had seen earlier, I felt Stiles would be safer at my place overnight, than going back home with Jason. Stiles had confided in me that he was planning on leaving Jason, and I was trying to offer him a way out."

"Is it possible you were hoping that Stiles would sleep with you that night? Perhaps you were jealous of their relationship."

"I was in no way trying to seduce him. My intentions were to simply help him out of an abusive relationship. For his own safety."

"Was this your reasoning behind showing up at Stiles' workplace, and advising him to break off his relationship with Jason?" Brigham asked.

"Again, I was trying to help Stiles. I went to him to see how he was holding up, and he showed me the recent bruises on his arms. I suggested again that he break off the relationship, before the abuse escalated."

"Did you or did you not threaten Jason on two occasions when he was drinking with his friends?"

Derek gave Jason a startled look, before turning back to the lawyer. "I did not."

"According to Jason's testimony, you cornered him in the restroom on two separate occasions. The first time, was on November thirteenth. You allegedly hit Jason in the stomach, and warned him to stay away from Stiles." Brigham looked down at his notes. "And the second occasion, on December eighth, you allegedly twisted Jason's arm behind his back, and threatened to shoot him in the kneecap if he did not break up with Stiles."

"I did no such thing," Derek said, his face hot. "That's a lie." He looked back at Jason, and glared at him. Jason gave him a smug little smile, before looking away.

"Tell me what happened in your own words, on the night of December tenth."

"I was working that night, and I saw Stiles and Jason come in and sit down at their usual table. They had an argument, and Jason started to get violent. They were arguing, and he grabbed Stiles by the arms. I called Stiles over to the bar, and asked him if everything was okay. He stayed for a few minutes, then went out on the dance floor. It got busy, and I didn't see him for nearly an hour."

"Can you please explain to the courts what happened then?" The lawyer asked.

"Stiles had been drinking too much alcohol, and vomited at their table. While I was cleaning it up, I asked him if he wanted me to call him a cab. He said no. He said his dad was the Sheriff in Beacon Hills, and I told him I'd drive him to his dad's house, because I was almost done work."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"By the time I came back, he was already gone. I thought he'd gone home with Jason, until somebody told me that they'd had a fight, and they went into the alley. And when I went out there to find him, Jason was choking Stiles. I pushed him off, and called the cops."

"So you admit to hitting Jason?"

Derek glared at the lawyer. "Yes, because he was hurting Stiles. Believe me, I showed restraint in not kicking that little bastard's ass."

"Please refrain from swearing, Mr. Hale." The Judge reminded him, as a few people started laughing. He slammed his gavel down.

"Sorry," Derek apologized.

"When did you see Mr. Stilinski next?"

"The next day. His dad dropped him off at the bar, and we hung out for a while."

"How did Mr. Stilinski appear?

"He had purplish bruises on his throat, and his eyes were really red. His voice was scratchy, and I saw bruises on his arms and wrists. I took the rest of my shift off and called the Sheriff, Stiles' dad, and asked how he was doing. The Sheriff told me about Stiles' nightmares, and all the stress and anxiety he was suffering recently. He said Stiles had gone out with Rigby to the park, so I cut work, and drove out to Beacon Hills to keep him company. We went out for some hot chocolate. I dropped him off at home."

"Why did you feel the need to check up on him over the phone, and in person? You barely knew him."

"He nearly died, because his boyfriend's a psycho. I just wanted to be there for him, as a friend."

"Nothing more?"

"At the time, we were only friends. I didn't start dating Stiles until after Christmas, a few weeks after he broke up with Jason."

"That was quick."

Derek was starting to get annoyed by the lawyer's questions, and glanced over at Stiles. "Yeah, well," He said. "He's a pretty amazing guy."

He could see Stiles' blushing, as his dad nudged him.

Brigham cleared his throat. "Mr. Hale, please tell me what happened on January twenty-seventh."

"That's the day Stiles got in a car crash," Derek said. "he was driving to Harrison, to see me, but Jason ran him off the road."

"Were you present at the accident?"

"No. I was getting ready for work. Sheriff Stilinski came into the bar a few hours later, and said that his son had been kidnapped. I went with him, to help find Stiles."

"Please explain in your own words what happened when you found Stiles."

"Well," Derek said, taking a deep breath. "Me and the Sheriff drove out to his cousin's house, and we saw Jason's car parked at the house. Stiles ran out of the woods, and said that Jason had a hatchet, which we already knew. He tried to attack us, so I pushed him out of the way. Jason hit me with the axe twice, and I had to go to the hospital." Derek pulled back his shirt, and showed the Judge the scar on his shoulder, and arm. "This is what he did to me."

The lawyer continued to question Derek for another twenty minutes. Finally, Derek took his seat beside Stiles. They watched as Jason was led to the stand, and swore an oath.

"For the record, please state your name." Brigham said.

"Jason Brightley."

"What is your relationship with Mr. Stilinski?"

"We used to date for eight months."

"You've been charged with assaulting him during those eight months. Yet, you deny being violent towards him, is that correct?"

"That's correct," Jason said. "He was the one hitting me. I was scared of him, especially when he would come home drunk. I don't have any family, I had no one to turn to. I was too scared to go to the police, because I knew Stiles' dad was the Sheriff. I didn't think anyone would believe me." Jason sniffled, and wiped the tears off his cheeks.

"I was so terrified of him! He even trained his dog, Rigby, to attack me if I didn't obey him." Jason pulled back his sleeve, and showed the lawyer a scar on his forearm. "This is what Rigby did, when I told Stiles I didn't want to have sex one night."

Stiles angrily turned to his dad. "This is such bullshit," He whispered. "Rigby was only a few months old. She never hurt him!"

Brigham continued his questioning. "Jason, could you please explain what happened on January twenty-seventh?"

"I met up with Stiles for coffee. When I was driving home later that day, I witnessed Stiles crash his jeep, and I pulled him out of the vehicle. I took him to my cousin's house, and took care of him. He tried to attack me, so I put handcuffs on him. He got out somehow, and threatened to kill me. I ran into the woods."

"Did you attack Mr. Hale with an axe?"

"Yes, I did. I tried to run to the Sheriff and his Deputy, but Stiles and Derek blocked my way. They told me they were going to kill me. I panicked, and swung at him. It was a terrible mistake, something I regret. I never meant to cause anyone bodily harm." Jason looked down at his lap, looking sad. "I just wanted to live. It was self-defense."

"Thank you, that will be all," Brigham said, sitting down. Joel Smith, Stiles' lawyer stood up, and started to cross-examine Jason.

"You say that Stiles used to hurt you, and train Rigby to attack you."

"That's correct."

"Rigby was only a puppy at the time. How much damage could she have done?"

"A lot," Jason said. "She would always growl at me, and Rigby bit me more than a dozen times."

"Did you run Stiles off the road? Remember, you are under oath."

"I didn't!" Jason spluttered. "His Jeep flipped on the ice."

"You texted him at the same time as the accident. 'Pull over.' Can you explain that?" Smith asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The lawyer handed the Judge a printout of Jason and Stiles' text conversation. "If you'll notice the time stamp, it matches just prior to the accident."

"Ohh. . . that text," Jason said, looking embarrassed. "I . . . uh, meant it for someone else. See – I was texting my friend Seth, and – "

"Did you or did you not text Mr. Stilinski to pull over his vehicle?" The Judge asked, annoyed.

"Yes, I did, sir. I just wanted to talk to him." Jason said, angrily. "He ran off when we were having coffee, and I just needed to talk."

"Did you cause the accident?"

"No."

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"He flipped his vehicle. That wasn't my fault," Jason said, vehemently. "I had nothing to do with that."

"Let's go back to the incident on December Tenth," Smith said. "Witnesses at the bar said you were violent to Stiles prior to the incident outside. What happened that night?"

"I already been through this with Brigham," Jason said, annoyed.

"Humour me."

"I went out with Stiles to the bar, and met up with some friends. This guy I knew wanted to hook up with us, but Stiles freaked out, and hit me."

"He hit you? Where?"

"ummm . . . in the chest?"

"I thought you told Brigham he punched you in the arm."

"Ohh. . .that's right. Whoops, I meant the arm. Anyway, at the end of the night, Stiles said out of the blue that he was leaving me for the bartender."

"At this point were you violent towards him at all?"

Jason shook his head. "I wanted to talk to him, but the bar was too loud, so I asked him if he wanted to get some fresh air. We were talking in the alley, until Derek ran over, and started screaming at me for talking to Stiles. He pushed me, and threatened to kick my ass. I ran off, and walked to Seth's house."

"Why would Derek react like that, do you think?"

"I dunno." Jason said. "Maybe he was like, jealous or whatever. How should I know?"

"So you are saying under oath that you never harmed Stiles at all that night?" Smith asked.

"That's correct."

Joel Smith turned to the Judge. "Your Honour, I'd like to review the security tapes now." He wheeled out the TV on a trolley, and played the DVD. One of the guards dimmed the lights.

"These are recordings from September to December. I would now like to show video evidence that Stiles was, indeed, being assaulted by Jason Brightley." Smith said, pressing play.

The cameras didn't lie – there was no mistaking the many times Jason was grabbing Stiles' arm, or pushing him around. The last clip played, showing Jason and Stiles in the alley on December tenth. Smith froze the image on the screen, and turned back to the Judge.

"Your Honour, this is evidence that Jason was, in fact abusing his partner."

Jason jumped to his feet. "That video must've been doctored! It's a fake!" He shouted. "I never hurt him! He's the violent thug, not me!"

Judge Hawkins banged his gavel. "Control your client!"

Brigham forced Jason to sit down.

"Taking into account everything I've seen and heard today, and from all the witness accounts, I'm going to go ahead with the charges against Jason Brightley. You are hereby charged with two counts of aggravated assault, Assault with a weapon, False Imprisonment, and Stalking. You will receive eight years in jail, minus the time already spent behind bars. Upon your release, you will have no contact with either Mr. Hale or Mr. Stilinski. You will also not be allowed to own a weapon upon your release. Do you understand everything I've just said?"

Jason nodded. There was an uproar as Stiles turned to hug his dad. He felt so relieved as he watched the police lead Jason away in cuffs. Stiles hugged Melissa, Derek and Scott. Grateful that his friends and family were there to support him. His knees felt weak, as it sunk in. It was really and truly over.


	28. Chamomile tea

Stiles felt so glad that the trial was finished. He was finally able to feel a sense of closure, as he followed his family out of the courtroom. Derek had his arms around Scott and Stiles' shoulders, and he watched as the Sheriff and Melissa walked ahead of them, quietly talking.

"I have a great idea," The Sheriff said to the group. "What say we all go out for dinner? Somewhere really nice, my treat."

Melissa gave the Sheriff a big smile. "That sounds fun."

They went to Andre's Restaurant, a swanky steakhouse on the east side of town. They got a table for five, and sat down.

"How do you feel, Stiles?" Melissa asked him, as she took off her jacket.

"So glad Jason's in jail. Oh, my god! All that crap he was saying about me – I can't believe he'd try and spin this whole thing. Make _me _look like the abuser." Stiles told her, taking a sip from his glass of water. "I'm just feeling much better, knowing he's in jail for the next few years. He can't hurt me anymore if he's behind bars."

Scott turned and grinned at Stiles. He could tell his best friend was more at ease, now that the trial was over and done with. Scott reached out, and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. "Nobody's gonna hurt you like that, ever again." He said, seriously. "We all got your back." Stiles nodded at him. "Thanks," he said, gratefully, as Scott let go of Stiles' shoulder.

A few weeks later, Derek and Stiles were watching comedy reruns in the middle of the night. Derek cleared his throat and looked down at Stiles, whose eyes were half-lidded with sleep, as he struggled to stay awake.

"I'm looking to get an apartment in Beacon Hills," Derek told him, as they watched TV. He had his arm over the back of the couch, as Stiles curled up against him. "I'd like to live closer to you."

Stiles looked up, surprised. His boyfriend's face was illuminated by the bluish light emanating from the TV, filling the darkened room. He contemplated what Derek had just said.

"You're really leaving Harrison?" Stiles asked, curious. He hoped it was true. The drive to Derek's apartment was long, and he hated running into Jason's old friends when they were out in public. It was just really, really awkward.

"I don't even like Harrison," Derek admitted. "It's a shitty town."

"What about your job?"Stiles asked, concerned. "Are you still going to keep working there?"

Derek shrugged. "I can find work anywhere. There's half a dozen bars in Beacon Hills. I'll manage. Besides, I already put in my notice a few days ago. I'm going to look for work here, in Beacon Hills."

Stiles shifted position, until he was sprawled out on Derek's chest. "You know I love you, right?" He said, sleepily. He closed his eyes, listening to the TV show's laugh track, as he felt Derek's chest rise and fall steadily beneath him.

"Yeah," Derek said, absently brushing Stiles' hair off his forehead. "I know."

Derek smiled down at Stiles' angelic looking face, as the kid slept. His mouth was slack, drooling slightly into his t-shirt. Derek admired Stiles' thick eyelashes, and his cute little upturned nose. He reached out, and lightly touched the moles scattered across Stiles' face and neck. The corner of Stiles' mouth raised a little as he slept, and he mumbled incoherently into Derek's chest. Derek grinned, and reached for the TV remote. He flicked off the TV, and had to blink as the room was suddenly engulfed in darkness. It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of light.

He listened to the ticking of the wall clock, the only sound filling the quiet room. It must've been nearly three or four in the morning, and Derek was pretty tired. The Sheriff had come home from work hours ago, excusing himself to the study where he'd spent the majority of the evening working on a murder case with Deputy Parrish. They'd ordered in two pizzas, and a 2L of Pepsi for dinner, and ate off paper plates over a very competitive game of Scrabble. Which led to two more games, as Stiles and Parrish desperately tried to get the best score.

Derek had given it a lot of thought as to why he wanted to leave Harrison. One of the main reasons had been to be closer to Stiles. The commute was killing his wallet, what with gas prices so high. He wanted out of that shithole, he didn't want to constantly have memories of Jason, and the trauma that Stiles had endured to pop up. It would be easier for the both of them, to just ditch the town altogether.

The next night, Stiles had another dream. He woke up in the middle of the night, his mind cloudy from sleep. It was nearly three in the morning. Not the terrifying nightmares he'd suffered from the last few months. This one had been nice. He pushed back the covers, and sat up. He tried not to disturb Rigby, who was sprawled out between him and Derek on the double bed. He didn't have the usual panicky feeling in his stomach from nightmares, as he crawled over Derek and went downstairs.

_He'd been sitting in the living room, watching TV, when the front door had opened. Stiles looked up, and saw his mom walk into the room. _

"_Hi, honey," Claudia said, giving him a tiny smile. "I just picked up some groceries, they're in the backseat. Can you help me bring them in?"_

_Stiles turned off the TV, and followed her out to the car. He picked up the heavy bags of food, and lugged them up to the house. She was standing in the kitchen, her curly, brown hair framing her face. Claudia watched her son enter the room, her face lighting up. _

"_You have no idea how proud of you I am, Stiles," Claudia told him. "I mean it."_

"_Mom, I know I'm dreaming," He told her, setting the bags on the counter. "I know you're dead."_

_She walked over, and wrapped her arms around him. "Of course you're dreaming," Claudia said, hugging him tightly. "I missed you so much."_

_Stiles could smell Claudia's perfume, the one she always dabbed behind her wrists every morning. He could feel himself start to tear up, as he buried his face into her shoulder. It had been so long since he'd been able to hug his mom, and he didn't want to let go._

"_I'm so proud of you," Claudia told him, breaking off the hug. "Stiles, I love you. Always know that."_

His dad was still poring over his case files, as Stiles quietly padded barefoot past the study. Stiles paused, and walked in. The Sheriff looked up, lost in thought.

"Hey," he said. "What time is it?"

"After three," Stiles said, sitting down. "Can't sleep."

"It's not nightmares, is it?" The Sheriff asked, concerned.

"Actually, I was dreaming about mom," Stiles blurted out. "She said she's proud of me."

Sheriff Stilinski's eyes widened at the mention of Claudia. He pushed the folder away, and took a deep breath. "Son," He said, unsure how to proceed.

"Dad, do you need help with this case?" Stiles asked in a rushed tone, craning his neck to get a better look. "Got a list of suspects yet?"

"You're changing the subject," His dad pointed out, raising his eyebrows.

"I shouldn't have brought up mom," Stiles said, guiltily. "I just – it felt so real. I _wanted_ it to be real." He was acutely aware of the fact that he'd broken the silent Stilinski rule – don't bring up Claudia. "Sorry, dad."

"Yeah," his dad said, sadly. "It's okay. We can talk about her, if you want. It's just really difficult, because I miss her so much."

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, then quickly closed it. There was a lot he wanted to talk about, regarding Claudia. But he didn't want to see his dad cry. There was nothing worse in the whole world than seeing your dad cry. He stood up. "You want me to make a pot of coffee?" He asked, pushing in his chair. He followed his dad into the kitchen.

"No, I was just heading up to bed in a few minutes. Do you want some tea or something?" His dad asked, leaning against the counter. "We have a box of chamomile. Help you sleep."

"Yeah," Stiles said. He started fiddling with the stack of letters in front of him. Bills, mostly. A few flyers, and junk mail. He watched his dad turn on the electric kettle, and pull out two mugs from the cupboard.

"You have that look, like you wanna talk. There something on your mind?" His dad asked, pulling up a chair, and leaned in close.

"I just – I'm feeling kind of stressed out right now. I'm so glad that we're done with the trial, and everything, but I know you've been having money problems. Lawyers don't come cheap, and neither does all those hours of therapy I've been doing since Derek recommended that shrink three weeks ago."

"Son, don't worry about it. We'll figure it out, we always do." The Sheriff said, picking up the stack of mail from Stiles. "I'll put in extra hours at the station. We'll be okay."

Stiles felt guilty. "I'll look for a job," He said, decisively.

"If you feel ready to go back to work, that's fine. But I'm not going to push you to do something, if you're not ready," The Sheriff told him, handing him a steaming mug of tea. Stiles spooned three spoonfuls of sugar, and a dash of milk.

"Dad, I haven't had any panic attacks lately. My anxiety has lessened now that Jason is behind bars. I feel ready."

"Okay," The Sheriff said. "Where do you want to apply?"

"I dunno yet. Maybe there's stores downtown hiring," Stiles said, stirring his tea. "There was an advertisement in the paper yesterday, that jewellery store downtown is looking for part-time."

The Sheriff laughed. "Stiles, you'd be like a bull in a china shop. You're so energetic, you would easily knock things over," he said. "They have so many fragile statuettes and figurines in there."

"Gotta start somewhere," Stiles said, defensively.

"How about the movie theatre? I think they're hiring. Plus, free movies."

"Yeah," Stiles said, grinning. "Free movies would be good." He gulped down the rest of his tea, and set the mug in the sink.

"Night, dad," Stiles said, going back upstairs.

"Night, Stiles."


End file.
